


Playing Victim

by float-me-to-the-moon (earlgreydaj)



Category: IT (2017), IT - Stephen King, Pennywise - Fandom, doing a thing here, gonna try it anyways, not sure if this will pan out
Genre: Abuse, Blood, Blood and Gore, Death, Dubious Consent, Emotional Manipulation, F/M, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Other, Past Abuse, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, not good things in general, trigger warning
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-14
Updated: 2018-02-11
Packaged: 2019-01-17 02:44:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 5
Words: 22,920
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12355827
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/earlgreydaj/pseuds/float-me-to-the-moon
Summary: Diana is a girl with a few problems. The newest has an affinity for red balloons and eating children. Let's see if she can play Penny's games and remain intact.





	1. First Kiss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meet my chicka Diana. I think she's cool. You might like her. Say hi. Stay a bit. You don't have to take off your shoes. We all good here. But please use a coaster. Be kind to the furniture.
> 
> Also. Um. Monster Penny? Let's see if he can play well with others?

She was losing her damn mind. There couldn’t be any other explanation. The years of shit sleep. The double shifts at the diner. The possible (no actual) gallons of coffee. Her meds. They had all finally taken their toll. She was going looney.

She fought to draw a breath. The man beside her kept her captive against a brick wall with his sweating, stinking mass. In the end though, it was the substantial weight of panic that truly impeded her ability to draw air. She felt the hand of the second man come to rest on her hip. They hadn’t seen it. Could they see it?

The red balloon.

It floated down the alley and came to stop just a few feet from where the men had her pinned against the alley wall.

\--------------------------------------------

All four chambers of her heart seemed to squeeze at the same time. There was no rhythm. It wasn’t even really a heart at this point. It was a bicycle pump that frantically shot blood throughout Diana’s body. Her limbs reverberated with its efforts.

The alarm hadn’t even gone off yet. Diana quickly adjusted the settings on her clock before the damn thing sounded. Most days she didn’t understand why she even tried to use the fucking thing. Typically her nightmares did the trick anyhow. Alarm or not, waking up was never a smooth process.

Now, standing in front of the bathroom mirror, Diana was somewhat pleased to be away from her bed. She craved sleep constantly, but at the same time, she dreaded it. Her bed was not a place of comfort. Her doctor had said this was normal. He had called is a “negative association.” Yeah. She seemed to have a lot of those.

Looking at the strewn about blankets through the bathroom mirror, she could almost see the swirl of tension and fear rotating over it now. Her own personal hurricane. Stationed over her every night. No calm eye existed, and her thrashing body acted as destructive winds. Every night was a category five. Every night was a fucking fight.

Reaching to turn the faucet on, Diana glanced downward. Her whole body stiffened. A figure loomed behind her in the mirror. A flash of white. A flash of red. She saw it only for a second when her vision shifted. Whirling around, there wasn’t a fucking thing. There never was. She took a few deep breaths and fought the urge to sit on the floor and cry. Last night had been particularly rough, her nerves shot to hell.

‘Fuck why..” The words left her as an exhale of a breath she hadn’t intended to hold. Of course there was no one in her tiny one room apartment. It was just her mind playing tricks on her. Always. Toxic little fuck.

She turned around and reached for the faucet again. Her hand trembled and struggled to grip the handle. Her whole body felt like it were one big tremor. A tremor waiting to shake the last bit of her sanity loose. It worked.

Diana instantly grew angry, furious even. Her hands clenched into trembling fists. It was better than watching each of her fingers shake. She threw them both to the side. The explosive motion a relief. The rubber band had wound all night and now Diana was snapping it. She hit the wall to her left. She threw bottles and makeup from a shelf onto the floor. She heard something break. Fuck it. Fuck that bottle. Gritting her teeth, she slammed the door with a shriek.

Her energy and anger dissipating, Diana felt the tears coming. She didn’t fight them this time.

Instead, Diana lowered herself to the bathroom floor. The cold tile was comforting. It wasn’t her suffocating sheets, and that’s what mattered. Over the noise of her fit, Diana heard something else. The sound was familiar to her at this point. She heard a laugh coming from her tub drain. It wasn’t the first time she’d heard the faint echo.

She had been hearing the laugh for several weeks now. It was just another hallucination. Why not lump auditory hallucinations in with visual disturbances. The more the merrier. It was just something her toxic mind had decided to torment her with. She ignored it and continued to cry.

Diana cried until the laughing stopped. She cried until her face hurt. Grateful no one was there to witness her outburst, she pulled herself together. Sort of.

There were spoons in the freezer that called to her teary eyes. She would need to manage the swelling of her puffy face before her afternoon shift at the diner.

\-----------------------------------

Again with this shit.

The Derry Diner off of Route 2. Some of the truckers that came through would jokingly call it “The good old double”. The “double’ referred to the diner’s usual buy-one-get-one-free on coffee. The more uncouth patrons found it amusing to call the diner “The Double D” in reference to the “assets” of the all-female wait staff

Unfortunately Diana had drawn the short straw this evening. She managed to land a table with the second type of customer. She could tell instantly in how the men leered at her. Yes. They leered. If she were lucky, maybe they would leave her alone and just tip well. Probably not though. She knew how to handle herself if things got ugly.

“What can I get you fellas to start with?”

“I got a few ideas darlin’ ”

Trying not to scowl (they enjoyed it more if they knew they were getting to you) Diana smiled and simply replied with the specials for the night.

The man on her left sucked his teeth and rubbed at his beard. It was long enough, wooly enough, to hide half his face. It didn’t matter. Diana could see perfectly well that he was eyeing her. 

“How about I start you boys off with some coffee.” She didn’t wait for an answer. Diana quickly walked away before the men could say anything else. Back behind the counter, she gathered a couple mugs and a carafe. She stopped to whisper to one of her coworkers, a local girl. Someone a few years younger than herself. Tara Hutchinson. The girl was maybe 16? Diana really didn’t know. She only knew that the young girl was still in high school. Just a baby still. Dating a local boy. He frequently came to the diner and sat at the bar to laugh and flirt with her. They were both still babies.

“Steer clear of table seven for me, will ya?”

Tara knew better than to look up from the ticket she was working and simply nodded.

‘You got it Di.”

That was all it took. They both knew exactly what they really meant:

_Stay the fuck away. They are dangerous. Let me protect you. --- Thank you Diana. I won’t ever admit it. But those kind of men terrify me._

Diana brought them coffee and managed to get an order. The whole time the man on the left continued to stroke his beard. His pale tongue running over his teeth between sips of his coffee. He was almost grotesque. Creeper-beard.

The man on the right was as burly as his counterpart. His facial hair was an unmanaged goatee. Each smile he directed at Diana warped his bristle into something unsettling. She tried not to look at it.

A few minutes later, as she brought them food, Diana made sure she had a hot carafe in her hands. It was good practice.

“Here ya go guys.” All of her normal pleasant tone was gone. It had died as soon as they’d sat down at that damn booth.

She reserved her normal pleasantness for customers that didn’t ogle at her figure beneath her diner uniform. It was a classic style dress with an apron. The whole diner went for that retro feel. Kind of like the whole town of Derry, to be honest. Diana loved it though. Well, she loved it until she had customers like these two dicks

She leaned over the table as little as possible when she delivered the food. Even still, that didn’t help deter them. When both plates were down, she felt something against the back of her thigh. Creeper-beard smiled at her and that’s when she noticed his arm outstretched and moving up. The long skirt of her uniform bunched up as his thick fingers explored the pastel blue folds.

This is what the carafe was for.

Bending over the table a bit more, Diana flashed creeper-beard a fake smile.

“More coffee, Sir?” Without a response, Diana began pouring the coffee with abandon. The mug quickly overflowed. A small waterfall of molten caffeine wasted no time in falling to the man’s lap. There wasn’t a hand on her thigh any longer. It never reached any higher north either.

Creeper-beard jolted up from the table, jostling the entire booth. The quake caused all the table’s contents to lurch back and forth. Dirty-goatee grabbed hold of his napkin and tried to save his own crotch from the same fate as his coffee fell over.

“Oops! I am such a klutz. Lemme get you boys some napkins.” She didn’t hurry to those napkins either. The men behind her were swearing and drawing the attention of other patrons. Faces from the bar and the booths turned to see what the trouble was. A few of the regulars smiled. They knew exactly what had occurred, and neither of them would do a damn thing to intervene. If a waitress from the Derry Diner had “spilled” coffee in your lap, you did something to warrant it.

Diana winked at Tara as she retrieved a towel from behind the diner counter.

\--------------------------------

The two men didn’t tip her. What a pity. She bused the table with a smile on her face. At least they were gone. After the mess had been wiped up, neither of them asked for refills on that coffee. In fact, they had eaten in a disgruntled silence before hastily leaving.

At this point in the evening, the neon lights outside the diner had come on. It made the diner feel warm, as if enveloped in a tiny bubble maintained by all-hours breakfast food and caffeine. It smelled inviting. It had everything you could need.

Juxtaposed to the diner, the darkening evening was dewy and a sharp chill hung in the air. Winter wasn’t here, yet, but it still made its approach known once the sun began to set.

Diana was glad she had brought her umbrella with her to work. She would need it on her walk back home. It was maybe only a ten minute walk, but a misty blanket of rain had settled over the town, peacefully. The slight nature of the rain wasn’t to be underestimated though. It would only take but a moment in the stuff to soak through a good layer of clothing. The gentleness of the moisture was deceiving to all those but the locals.

While she ached to be home with shoes and bra far from her person, Diana would also miss the warm diner bubble.

Currently she sat at the counter and sipped a cup of coffee with Tara’s boyfriend nearby. What was his name? She should have known this by now with how often the kid was in here. Slowly eating a slice of pie. Nursing a cup of coffee. He never interfered with Tara’s ability to work though. If anything, the girl was more productive. She was more chipper. Some days, as a result, his presence garnered her more tips. They were cute together. The regulars loved it. Ah, young love.

Diana wondered if she could have ever had something like that. Something sweet in her life. Something to be cherished. Protected. Probably fucking not. Tara had a family. Prospects through school. Her boyfriend. Supportive friends. Diana knew what these things were, but she had never experienced them. Her youth had been much less ple- EVAN! That’s what his fucking name was.

“Hey kid. At this rate, you should buy stock in our cherry pie.” She smiled at Evan over her coffee mug.

Those broad shoulders turned to her, and Evan feigned disbelief. “Are you trying to say something Diana? I am a growing boy. Fruit is good for me. Antioxidants and whatnot.” He shoved a giant bite of the stuff in his mouth for emphasis.

“Oh yeah, I’m sure. Pie is a very important part of any healthy diet.”

They both laughed. Diana loved simple pleasant conversations like this. It was part of why she loved living in such a small town. Not all of Derry was like this, mind you. There were very cold parts of Derry. But, when it came to the warm, charming bits, the town could be downright enchanting.

She considered taking home a slice of pie herself, but she had to admit, she hadn’t the appetite for something so rich.

“Alright you two. Behave until Sherry gets here.” The perpetually late Sherry was on the schedule to relieve Diana. Not five minutes ago, the woman had called to say she would be late to work, as per usual. Honestly, the entire lot of waitresses at Derry Diner never expected Sherry to be on time. It was just one of those things. Besides. Sherry was a pretty nice lady with five kids, so no one gave her a genuine hard time about her tardiness. Sure, they all teased her, but it was harmless fun.

Tara waved her away with a towel she had been wiping the counter with. “Di, would you go home already. You work too much.” It was true. Diana did work too much. But she needed the money. And long hours at the diner ensured she didn’t hide away in her apartment for too long. The seclusion wasn’t good for her, and Diana knew it.

Diana finished her coffee and stood up. From the corner of her eye she saw something outside. She knew it wasn’t really there. It never was. But she did a double take all the same. A flash of red and white. Something just outside the diner, immune to the glow of the neon lights. Immune to the haze of the rain.

She felt her heart jump, a thrill going through her. It was clear she needed sleep, which was impossible. Or she needed to call her doctor in Bangor. She would have to ask him to adjust her medication again. Maybe write her something to sleep. She hated doing that. It made the nightmares stretch for longer. But it forced her body to sleep. A terrifying sleep, but sometimes the medication would numb her to the nightmares. Those particular meds helped her to gain some relief, if only for a short while.

Taking a breath Diana retrieved her belongings from a room adjacent to the kitchen. She slipped on a simple coat. The lining was coming unstitched at the bottom.  Honestly, she needed a new one, but she was still trying to save up for a cheap car.

Diana waved bye to the young couple. Evan sat upright for a second. He knew Diana would say no to him as soon as he said something, but he did it anyway. “Hey. Uh. Do you want a ride home?”

“No no, don’t be silly. I’m fine.” She hated accepting help from people. She knew he didn’t expect anything from her. She knew he genuinely meant well. Still though. Maybe it was a pride thing.

“Besides. The fresh air is good for me. A break from breathing in all this diner food.”

Tara’s mouth turned down at the corners slightly. Her and Evan both. They tried to help her. They were just babies though.

“Just be careful, Di. Please? ” The young girl busied herself with making another pot of coffee.

What she really meant was: _People have been going missing. Don’t go missing too_.

It was sweet that they cared. “Don’t worry. I always am.”

\----------------------------------------

Hoping to lose them, she had cut through the alley. She knew these streets better than they did. If she could just get a little ahead of them, she could make it to her apartment safely. Maybe call the police.

She didn’t want to break into a run. Not just yet. She knew it was imperative that she put distance between herself and her pursuers, but she also couldn’t do it. The longer she didn’t run meant the longer she wouldn’t have to hear them give chase.

This was a fucking nightmare.

They had waited for her to be far from the diner before they had pursued her in a truck cab. If the engine hadn’t announced their presence, then the sound of it cutting off certainly had.

A liquor bottle shattered on pavement as the men climbed from the truck. She didn’t look to see if it had been thrown or dropped. She didn’t care to. Diana could have bet money on exactly who they were. Chancing a glance over her shoulder, Diana saw their silhouettes in the street lights. Burly and scruffy. Both of em. Dirty-goatee and creeper-beard.

Their footsteps were too close now. And then they were running. Diana ran too. It didn’t matter though. A big hand with short, thick fingers grabbed her arm while another grabbed her waist.

Instantly she smelled the liquor on them.

She flung her umbrella behind her and attempted to land a hit. It collided with dirty-goatee, but creeper-beard already had a tight grip.

“Let go of me!” Diana clawed and elbowed at anything she could reach. Dirty-goatee wrenched the umbrella from her grasp and threw it aside. He then ran a hand through his hair, squeegeeing water from the already oily tresses. He had a sheen to him. The light rain had made both of them look dirtier somehow. They now better resembled the greasy swine they were.

Diana spat and swore at them as they manhandled her. She thought about screaming, but she knew Derry. She knew she wasn’t in that safe diner bubble anymore. This was the darker side of Derry. This was the Derry that abandoned you. No one would come to her aide even if she busted a lung screaming for help. Besides, it would only give her attackers more encouragement.

Struggling to break free, Diana felt hands on her. Like snakes, they constricted her limbs. Another hand reached forward. It grabbed the front of her dress, wrenching down. A coarse ripping sound. The cold, wet air hitting her chest. The buttons to the top of her uniform now abandoned on the alley floor.

She threw her weight backwards into creeper-beard and attempted to kick at dirty-goatee. She landed a hit against one of his knees. She wasn’t even sure he really felt it.

“You’re gonna pay for that little stunt you pulled earlier.” She felt hot breath overwhelm her. Facial hair rubbed at her neck and shoulder. It felt like sandpaper.

Her world spun. A jolt went through her. Brick collided with her back. She didn’t feel the pain that should have been in her head. She didn’t feel the wet. She didn’t feel the cold.

This was a fucking nightmare.

Creeper-beard held her in place with his weight. Seizing both her wrists, he buried his face in her neck. His mouth was against her skin. It felt like fire.

Diana fought every second of the way.

“Don’t touch me you fucking pig!” In her mind flashed violent images. She wanted both of them dead in that instant. Before they had just been scum bags. Nuisances. Now, they needed to be eradicated. Nothing could be sweeter. Both of them. Bleeding. Gurgling. Begging. On the ground right now. It was the only thought that kept her from shattering.

Dirty-goatee groped at her around creeper-beard’s hulking mass. Diana barely registered the chilling air as her skirt was gathered upwards by drunken sweeping limbs. One of dirty-goatee’s mitts found purchase between the two of them. It jammed against a spot below her waist. It was a place where his hand didn’t belong. The intrusion turned her stomach, and that’s when she saw it.

The single red balloon.

It was floating down the alley towards the struggling trio. Its string barely brushed the ground. Although water droplets had clung to the knotted base, no rain appeared to fall on its glossy surface. The world didn’t seem to touch the balloon.

Dirty-goatee took a couple steps back. His hands on his belt, he grunted at his friend. “I’m going first. You’ll take too long.” His words should have terrified her more, but she barely heard them.

Creeper-beard didn’t stop his pawing, his face still buried at her side.

A flash of red. A flash of white. She was fucking insane. The attack had clearly pushed her over the edge.

A figure now towered behind dirty-goatee as he drunkenly struggled with his belt buckle.

It was lanky. Dingy white topped with fire. Luminous eyes. For weeks now he had appeared to her in a less than corporeal fashion. Every day she had glimpsed him from the corner of her eye. Now, here he stood. Fuck. He couldn’t possibly exist, but he also didn’t instantaneously dissipate when she looked at him straight on. Did that mean he was really here? Really tangible. All she could deduce in this fleeting moment was that this person, this thing, couldn’t possibly be human.

Its right hand rose to the level of its painted face. Fingers twiddled back and forth in a playful wave before coming to rest in front of a haunting smile. A single finger motioned for her to remain quiet.

It didn’t matter. She was stunned into silence anyway. She was being assaulted and her mind had decided to conjure up an imaginary inhuman clown? Good fucking job brain. The little shit.

With the reflexes of a predator, the figure placed a gloved hand over dirty-goatee’s mouth. The man’s surprise was muffled by the cloth and its pressure. Any noise he made was unheard by his partner who was too absorbed in his current activities. Grunting and licking at the skin on Diana’s neck, he was completely unaware that anyone had joined them in the alley.

She watched with horror and intrigue as the figure bit down on dirty-goatee’s shoulder. The man screamed, the liquor in his system delaying all his actions. The noise was still muffled, and almost impossible to hear over the sound of creeper-beards drunken ministrations.

Blood spilled down dirty-goatee’s side. His whole body seemed to tremble with the force of the bite. The figure, the clown, shook his head as he tore at the flesh. There was so much blood. It instantly began to pool on the ground.

“Get in here man, or I’m not gonna wait for you.” Creeper-beard pulled away from her, finally. As he turned to glance back at his friend, Diana wasted no time. She took her shot. Her body unfroze, and she lurched forward. This time, her face was buried in _his_ neck. Her teeth clamped down and she tasted metal.

If anyone had asked, she would have told them she feared for her safety. She was defending herself. That wasn’t entirely true though. That’s not what made her lunge. No. She wanted to hurt the bastard. She wanted to ruin him.

“Agh! Mother fucker! Stupid bitch!” His hands pulled at her shoulders, but she didn’t let go. She felt skin give way beneath her teeth. Warmth spread over her chin and down her chest. It wasn’t until she realized her mouth had filled with liquid that she let go, gagging on the fluid. Blood. Not her blood. His blood.

She doubled over for a second and let the coppery substance fall from her mouth. When her senses would eventually return, Diana was sure she would be disgusted by the thought of his skin and hair and blood in her teeth. His nauseating texture. Right now though, she felt victorious. Fucking prick. She wanted to bite him again. Hit him. Tear out his beard, hair by hair.

She looked up as creeper-beard reeled back to punch her, one hand clutching at his bloody neck. “Fucking cun-. “ He didn’t finish the sentence. His cocked arm never moved. The fire-capped figure dropped dirty-goatee to the ground like a sack of potatoes. Wet, bloody potatoes. The man was still breathing, but made no effort to move. Diana didn’t think him capable.

As for his friend, he too would soon be bloody potatoes.

Diana ignored her first gut reaction. She’d considered looking away, but a louder something told her not to dare. Creeper-beard’s face froze in a state of shock.

And Diana watched as his head was separated from his body.

She heard the squelch of blood as it spurted from his neck. She watched each individual section of flesh strain as it clung fast to the man’s shoulders. It didn’t stand a chance though. The skin stretched over the snapping muscle fibers. Gore covered his entire upper half. The man’s head was nearly severed, and then she heard the snap of vertebrae releasing their hold. From there the elastic skin stretched thin and eventually let go, recoiling like latex or rubber. The entirety of the man’s body seemed to jolt and tremble like the end of a lizard’s severed tail. Only, a lizard could regrow its tail. For a moment, Diana entertained the fleeting thought that this man would grow another head. Maybe he would grow two. She could imagine him as monstrous as a Grecian hydra.

The body never began to regenerate though. The massive figure released the man’s body. It fell not far from dirty-goatee and stilled its seizing. Yup. Bloody, wet potatoes.

The creature’s glowing eyes fell upon the severed head with glee. It was definitely glee. It turned its back to Diana and she watched as the head was raised to the creature’s mouth. Slurping noises subsequently followed.

The bloody shaking girl watched the events unfold with a sense of surreal wonder. This was the part where she should pass out, right? Yeah, this is when that should happen. Diana waited for it, but the world didn’t fall away.

Looking down at the two mangled bodies on the ground, she felt a sense of reassurance. They had been ended just like she wanted them to.

As her senses tried to return, the cold numbness left her mind but remained upon her rain-soaked, shivering body. She felt terror growing inside her again. She could be next on this creature’s list, and there was no doubt it was a tangible, dangerous entity. Not after what had just occurred.

Oddly enough she felt gratitude build somewhere beneath the adrenaline and fear. Even if she died tonight. Here. In this fucking alley. Whatever happened, it was still better than anything those sick fucks had intended to do to her. Well. She hoped it was a better outcome anyway.

Diana let out a breath she didn’t know she had been holding. It was amazing she could even breathe at all. The sound of exhaled air caught the creature’s attention. There was a heavy wet thud as the figure dropped creeper-beard’s head to the ground. It lolled back and forth for a bit. The same surprised expression still present on his face.

The creature’s head cocked to the side. She remembered the wave from earlier. IT's smile. Typically these images would be considered friendly. A wave. A smile. A helping hand. But they weren’t even close to friendly. Not when sported by that thing.

Diana didn’t know what was about to happen to her, so she blurted out the first thing that came to mind. “Thank you!” Her voice was obtrusive and misplaced in the dark alleyway. She didn’t even bother to hide the confusion that painted her own features.

Apprehension hung about her as she watched the creature’s head tilt to the other side in what she assumed was perplexity. She didn’t need to see its face right now to know that it was as puzzled by her comment as she was. The back of its head was enough.

Fuck. Damn. She meant it though because, in that moment, Diana realized that not a soul had ever… saved her? Bad shit always happened. To her. It was life. It was her life, and Diana always had to just deal. She had to just survive. This was so different though. Maybe? Survival wasn’t entirely on or off the table at this point, so a comparison couldn’t accurately be made. 

Too many questions swam about Diana’s adrenaline soaked brain. Even more surfaced as her “savior” turned slowly to face her. He seemed to be sniffing the air. The first thing she noticed was the blood. It stained the front of his suit. The ruffles around his neck had seen better days, and this was not one of them. They too bore the dark red evidence of the violence that had ensued.

Remarkably, the blood didn’t disturb Diana. She felt unfazed after having witnessed a man’s head torn asunder from his body.  She could already feel her brain pocketing those images away for the nights to come. Nightmare fuel. She should be used to the stuff by now. Her subconscious didn’t care if the man had deserved it or not.

The creatur- the ma-. No. The clown? IT. IT flashed her a vast smile full of jagged teeth she hadn’t noticed earlier. It didn’t matter then. It didn’t matter when he was saving her from those men. It mattered now though. It mattered now that she was alone with…IT. Perhaps that was why her eyes followed the lines of each individual tooth. She thought about calculating just how many teeth were behind those crimson lips. It was probably for the best that she didn’t.

Instead, Diana busied her faculties with the effort it took to pry herself away from the brick wall. This proved a difficult task. While Diana worked to make her brain communicate with her limbs, she heard IT speak.

“What a polite young thing. So well-mannered!” Its voice was a tone pleasant to the ears, but somehow wrong too.

How she found the resolve to say anything back, Diana didn’t really know. Maybe her will came from a place of self-preservation. “I-it’s only right I thank the person that sss-saved me.” The hiccups in her speech were in part due to the cold and in part due to the horror she felt.

“Such a sweet girl! Yes.. Pennywise _saved_ Diana!” Upon uttering the word “Pennywise”, the creature shuddered with delight. A delicate jingle found Diana’s ears. She hadn’t noticed such a noise earlier. No, there had been no sound during the butchery besides the spilling of blood and the cleaving of flesh.

The traumatized woman (as if she wasn’t traumatized before tonight) didn’t even notice how the clown knew her name already. She had enough questions bombarding her brain. In fact, one had just been answered.

“I-is that your nn-ame? P-pennywise?” The figure before her nodded in delight. The sharp, toothy smile never faltered from his pale features.

Diana’s brain was attempting to calculate the fastest way to remove herself from this situation. She made a move for it.

“I am ss-so appreciative, Pennywise. But. I really nuh-need to get home. Before I catch a colddd” Diana’s teeth chattered on that final word. Finally she tore her back away from the brick wall. She reached her hands up to her limp dress lapels and bunched them around her neck for emphasis.  She felt a thick soupy squish beneath her fingers. She had completely forgotten about the state of her.

Mirroring the creature in the alley, Diana had blood all down her front. It was completely cooled at this point, and her fingers were now stained. Having stepped forward into the illumination of a street lamp, the blood was clearly visible. The stomach-churning mess fully illuminated. Her eyes traced the gore up her uniform as far as she could see. That’s when it dawned on Diana. Her mouth had been brimming with creeper-beard’s blood at one point. She wanted to throw up. Fuck.

The waitress frantically reached up to wipe the cooled blood from her chin and mouth. The thought of her attacker’s blood on her face made her dizzy with disgust. She never made it that far though.

Something stopped her, holding her wrist fast with bruising force. Looking up, Diana came face to face with IT. He was close. Too close. How had he moved that fast without her even hearing him? Honestly, that was a dumb question. She had already seen him move with unspeakable speed. Diana would later chide herself for even thinking the question when so many other thoughts should have been more relevant.

With this vantage point, Diana could clearly see each tooth she had tried to count earlier. They were even more jagged up close and the smell of IT overwhelmed her.

Her senses were flooded with the scent of dank decay. It was the smell of old blood. It was overwhelming copper mixed with damp dirt. Her body wanted to gag but she couldn’t move. Between the shock and the smell Diana could hardly breathe.

She soon forgot the stench as her eyes met his. They glowed with a golden light that was empty despite how it should have held substance.

Those lips. IT’s mouth had fallen from the previous smile. Now the muscles in the creature’s face were lax. A thick strand of saliva stretched away from his maw. That’s exactly what it was too. She knew it was the only word to describe the cave of teeth. At least, that is what it became in the moments to follow.

She watched the golden orbs trace up her form. It felt just as disgusting as when the two truckers had eyed her in the diner earlier that evening. Fresh panic welled in her chest beneath the creature’s stare.

Diana did what she always did. She fought. She pulled at her arm hoping the creature would release its grip on her. No such luck. A low raspy growl emanated from IT’s throat.

“Please!” She hated the whine in her own voice as she pulled at her arm repeatedly. It was the sound of begging, and it felt dirty. She didn’t want to beg anything of IT.

Her nails found purchase in the gloved hand that held her arm steady. “Let go! Please…” Even as much as she resisted, the urge to beg was visceral. A scared little bird flitting in the claws of a cat. The poor bird would never escape, but that wouldn’t stop it from trying, the efforts futile.

At this point, the adrenaline had her body heavy like iron. Her muscles were tired and her energy dwindling from the evening’s events. Even with exhaustion setting in and the numbing cold that had taken hold of her whole body, she still felt his grip. It hurt. And with every bit she struggled, the creature’s grasp tightened

The hold IT had on her sent shooting pains up to her shoulder, and he easily manipulated the rest of her. He backed her against the alley wall. The very wall she had just managed to escape from. Twice in the same night she got stuck playing prey. There was anger beneath her fear, but Diana didn’t know what to do with the emotion by this time in the night. For a moment, a thought crossed her mind: _what I wouldn’t give for a scalding carafe of Derry Diner coffee right now._

The pain in her wrist, the callous brick at her back, the cold blanket that snuck in through the front of her dress. They all plummeted away with her stomach as she watched the creature flash his teeth at her again.

This time it wasn’t a smile. The creature was baring its many rows of fangs. She watched IT’s eyelids flit close for a moment as IT sniffed the air again.

IT seemed to suck in air, tasting the thick atmosphere around them, as IT opened that maw full of razors. She didn’t know if she was still grateful to this creature like she had been before. The warmth of appreciation almost felt like it was still there somewhere. However, now it was hidden beneath this newest wave of terror. She didn’t have the luxury to contemplate such things. Instead she pondered how she would die tonight.

A tongue slithered out from among the pearly blades. It was serpentine in behavior and in appearance, inching out to an unrealized length.

The brick against her back, once suffocating, was now a thing of solace. She sank into it as far as her body would go. She desperately hoped it would warp into some kind of gelatin, allowing her to fall away from this place. She begged the physics of the wall to help her. The urgency of her plea grew with every second as she calculated the closing distance between her and the approaching tongue.

The muscle seemed to lazily lap at the air around her. IT was taking IT’s time. That thought occurred to Diana and sent another jolt of fear down her spine. The unknown possibilities of what IT was going to do consumed her mind, possibilities too terrifying to become fully realized thoughts.

“Hnn…”A small disgusted whine reverberated in her throat as she felt the warm wet appendage swipe over the hollow of her neck. It tasted the blood there and coiled against her skin for a moment. Diana winced and shut her eyes. The tongue drifted across her chest and further still. It dipped down under the folds of her torn dress, sampling the blood that had pooled in her cleavage. The curvature of her breasts, each explored by the pointed tip of the muscle.

Diana breathed as little as possible. The more her chest moved, the more she had to feel that tongue press into her.

After a moment, the tongue retracted. Only then did she open her eyes, not knowing when she had clamped them shut. She saw why the muscle had abandoned her form. The filthy appendage had snaked and curved its way back to the bars of its cage. It rubbed against the creature’s teeth for a moment. IT growled. Deeper this time. Clearly enjoying the taste.

No chance to recover, Diana watched the tongue return to her skin with fervor. “Ugh.” It felt hotter than before. The trail it left as it glanced over her chest once more and moved up her neck seemed to cut into her flesh. Her resolve was breaking and the disgusted girl turned her head away until it hurt to do so.

Then she felt a hand on her head. Clenching closed the creature grabbed a fistful of Diana’s hair at her crown. “Ah!” Pain sprouted across the top of her skull. IT used the fistful of hair to turn Diana’s head back, making her face forward.

She opened her eyes to glare at the creature through the pain and humiliation. IT’s own gaze bore into her, never blinking. IT held eye contact as the tongue slithered up and down her bloody neck.

The sensation of its tongue flitting across the sensitive flesh of her neck was nearly too much, and as the tongue traced the line of her jaw, Diana’s resolve completely crumbled. She felt tears well in her eyes and hoped she could blame it on the sharp grip the creature had on her hair. That wasn’t true though, and she knew it. He knew it.

Heavy tears fell from her eyes. Diana resisted the urge to sob openly. She was afraid she wouldn’t be able to stop. She was afraid he wouldn’t stop.

Sobbing gently, Diana devoted all her energy to focusing her mind elsewhere. She could withstand this if she could just separate from it. If she could just shut off for a sec-

As if he knew she were drifting away to somewhere else, the creature tugged on her hair. Simultaneously he let go of her wrist. It throbbed and Diana dared not test her dexterity. Each finger had an individual heartbeat.

The hand that encircled her wrist now occupied itself elsewhere. The creature’s long digits gripped her jaw. He held her in such a fashion that she couldn’t move her head. She couldn’t look away. She couldn’t close her mouth even, not with how he grasped her mandible. The thought of her jaw bone shattering kept Diana deathly still.

“Aghhck.” The wandering muscle darted forward. There was no lazy nature to it now. It thrust though Diana’s lips with dark purpose. Everything about the creature was dark purpose. She resisted the urge to close her eyes again for fear he would begin to rip the hair from her scalp. But she wanted desperately to look away. She wanted to even more as the creature’s tongue scraped over her teeth. It writhed over her lips and curled around her own tongue.

As she glared into its eyes, Diana notice the creature’s mouth hitch upwards at the corners in a devious smirk. Even with all those teeth and the ministrations of the saliva coated muscle, he still managed to smirk at her somehow.

This was a fucking nightmare.

The creature violated her mouth and IT didn’t withdraw until IT had gagged her with the appendage. She felt the tongue swirl at the back of her throat. Grotesque noises left her mouth as she felt bile build with each violent lurching gag. During the ordeal, Diana’s good hand had somehow found its way to one of the creature’s shoulders. She grasped and clawed at the grimy fabric.

His tongue retreated back into his mouth. The hand in her hair loosened and slid away. The same could be said of the fingers that gripped her mandible like the iron wires used to sew broken jaws in place. If he had gone any longer, Diana was almost positive she would have needed some of that wiring herself.

She felt her body wanting to collapse in on itself. The only things holding her up were the alley’s brick wall and her grip on the creature’s shoulder.

He observed her for but a second before stepping in closer to her. The entirety of his form was brushing against her shaking body. She felt him inhale deep, his face half buried in the thoroughly tousled hair behind her right ear.

The slanted sweetness was gone from his voice. Instead he spoke in a gruff whisper like he was trying to offend the air around him. “Run home, little lamb.”

 

 


	2. Love Note

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Diana takes a second to process everything. I mean. What exactly are you supposed to do when a psycho, cosmic, murder clown gets all up in your face? Well, I know what some people would do, but I don't think Diana is a "clucker" (clown fucker). She is a good girl dammit! She does her best!

The urge to let gravity take her was strong. Adrenaline was a hell of a drug. Until it left. She was only a block from her apartment, but it felt like miles separated her from safety.

It took her some time, but Diana eventually reached her apartment building and managed to climb the stairs to the third floor. The biggest challenge yet was getting her front door unlocked. The fine motor skills for the task proved more challenging than she could have thought. With each jingle of the keys, Diana feared her neighbors might nosily poke their heads into the hall. She certainly was not in a presentable state.  
  
As if she were trying to rush inside and keep something from following her in, Diana hastily closed the door and held it in place against her back. She pressed her weight against the faded white paint. The door responded in kind, peephole nudging against her head.  
  
Diana checked twice to make sure the door was locked before she stepped away. She made to remove her jacket but stopped herself. Everything felt grimy. She wanted nothing more than to rest but she knew she had to get cleaned up first. The thought of that thing’s saliva coating her skin any longer than it already had made Diana’s muscles jitter. She felt disgusting. She felt disgusted.

Heading for the bathroom, she began stripping her clothes off. She just needed to wash this night away. She needed to not feel dirty right now.  All her clothes were thoroughly damp with rain. And blood. And saliva. She wasn’t thinking straight, but she didn’t need to think. Her body was on autopilot and drove her forward.

The jacket, her torn dress, her undergarments. They all fell to the linoleum bathroom floor with a wet smack. The sound made Diana cringe and hang her head. The noise struck her. The image of bloodied bodies falling limply to the pavement flashed in her mind.  
  
When she opened her eyes again, Diana stepped forward, leaning over the bathtub to turn the hot water on. Righting herself, Diana caught a glimpse of her reflection. She knew she shouldn’t look. Fuck she really didn’t want to. But. She had to.

Delicately, Diana turned her head. She moved with such hesitation. It was as if she were afraid the mirror would break if she glanced at it too quickly. Or maybe she would break?

She certainly felt like shattering once faced with her visage. Her dark hair stood up in matted sections where the…thing had grabbed her. She saw lines down her cheeks, evidence of tears having forged a path down and under her chin, little rivulets through the smeared blood. Fuck. The blood. At this point, the blood had dried to a red-brown, its pigmentation showing its age. However, it was the bloody swirls and streaks painted across her skin that really fucked with Diana. She could practically feel the creature’s tongue on her once more as she traced the path it took across her skin. Her stomach turned as she followed the curling trail over her chest.

A familiar tingle built against Diana’s jaw. A slight buzz warmed her ears. She threw open the toilet lid and emptied her stomach. It had been a long time coming this evening. She’d held out all night and not gotten sick, but now her body needed to purge itself of everything that had occurred.

It didn’t take much to empty her stomach. She flushed the toilet without looking, not wanting to see her own sick. Her avoidance came from a place of denial. She was horribly afraid that she had swallowed some of her attacker’s blood earlier. If she didn’t see blood in the toilet though, she could go on not having to entertain that possibility.

Once steam began to coil out from behind her shower curtain, Diana wasted no time crawling into the warming bathtub. The hot water was too hot. She didn’t care though. She wanted it scalding. If she tried hard enough, maybe she could disinfect her entire body. That was the plan anyhow.

As her skin heated and turned a cherry color, Diana felt the chill leave her bones. But it didn’t leave her gut. Terror from this evening had subsided to a more manageable level, but it was still there. She had almost been raped. And as much as she detested her attackers, it didn’t change one simple fact: Diana was now an accomplice to murder. A brutal murder at that.

All rational worries dissipated as one realization surfaced. Even with everything that had occurred, she had been assaulted anyhow. That thing. That clown. Fuck, what was it? Why did it stop those men? Was it just to get her alone? That had to be it.

Diana felt a hum encircle her head, like a giant tuning fork had been struck. The pale green walls around her began to darken at the edges of her vision. She knew what it felt like to pass out and quickly lowered herself to a sitting position before she lost control. The stability of the bathtub walls around her helped. She was safely enclosed in her tiny warm space, a porcelain bed and tiled embankments. They held her, rooted her in a sense of familiarity and comfort.

With each deep, steamy breath, Diana felt the blackness retreat and the humming disappear as if someone were turning a radio dial. She stayed like that. Holding one knee in both her arms, curled in on herself while her other leg stretched the length of the tub. The shower peppered her in tiny but heavy drops of warmth. She focused on the sensation of each delicate poke. The feeling reminded Diana of a pin screen toy she had as a child where she’d form lewd hand gestures or funny faces. Only, this pin screen enveloped her whole body, forming a three-dimensional cast of her broken posture.

Instead of thinking about what had led her to this point in time, Diana instead focused on a patch of skin over the ankle of her outstretched leg. What a fucking cliché. Curled up in the bathtub. Just another victim. Maybe if she started to cry she could really be the whole package. Broken. Assaulted. Scared.

This wasn’t the first time Diana had been here. Sure, not in this tub. Not in this town. But she knew all too well what it felt like to curl up under a shower, begging for the pain and pressure in her chest to ease. She knew what it felt like to try and wash away the filth. Not dirt or blood, but an emotional kind of muck. A kind of grit that embedded itself in your body. It burrowed into your heart, cultivating a hurt that never healed. It weighed on the spirit.

In all her years, Diana had never figured out how to heal emotionally. She never learned how to lighten the load. She learned to live with the pain and fear. Well, “live” was a generous term.

Diana took in a deep lungful of steamed air but didn’t exhale right away. This whole time she had been trying to keep her mind as blank as possible and avoid running through the night’s events. She was afraid she would come completely undone, fall into a downward spiral.

A single image broke through her fragile defense. A quick flash. It wasn’t an image of the two truckers. It wasn’t of their mangled bodies. It was the clown. His tongue. The way he had smirked at her. The eye contact he held as he…violated her. Then she tasted it. Dank dirt and blood and decay. The air bottled in her chest rushed forward in a chocking sob.

All restraint was gone. She cried. Hard. Her whole body shook with the force of grieving. The loss of dignity mourned. She leaned into the porcelain of the tub and buried her face in her hands.

“God dammit. Why…”

Had she fucked up in a past life? Did she have a sign on her forehead that told the scum of the earth to come for her? What was it that drew the attention of brutes and savages? She had a sobering thought strike suddenly: this time she had attracted an actual monster.

Sure, the people that had hurt her through life were categorized as beasts, but this time was completely different. This was foreign territory. She had met a real monster. How could any of this be real?

The questions would drive her mad. She knew they would. This wasn’t her first rodeo. Fuck. The thought made her sick with cynicism.

Diana’s crying slowly lost momentum like a car sputtering to a stop. Her face ached with the exertion. Her head throbbed too, but she was willing to bet money that her abused scalp was partially to blame. Cold water would soon begin to overtake the shower stream, and Diana couldn’t stand the thought of being caught in the stuff. Just the suggestion of cold water running over her aching body was enough to tear her from the shower floor. She quickly and thoroughly scrubbed her body, knowing she could not afford to find a single smudge of blood on her being when she got out.

Climbing out around her shower curtain, Diana once more looked at her reflection. The only red in the mirror now was her eyes and shoulder, one from crying and the other from the scalding water.

She took inventory after wrapping her weary body in the largest towel she owned. Her scalp ached but she didn’t find any blood as she carefully parted her hair, thankful the skin was intact. Diana glanced at her wrist and rolled her forearm back and forth slowly in the mirror, getting a good look at the abused limb. The flesh there was distinctly darker. The entirety of her wrist would bruise. Wouldn’t be the first time. She could handle covering it up. What she was really worried about was her face.

She tilted her chin back and forth, scrutinizing her jaw. If she closed her eyes she could still feel the creature’s grip on her. It was disorienting. Her fingers lightly brushed over the tender skin. She could cover any marks up properly should bruises bloom there as well. She’d had plenty of practice in the past. Not that this was something Diana was particularly proud of.

Diana padded out of her bathroom, clutching the wide towel to her form. It was a bright pink color with a very plush texture. A hole had begun to form in the corner by the tag. She always found herself picking at it despite how much she attempted not to.

The flush, damp girl shuffled through the bathroom doorway and stopped as if she had walked into a glass partition. She jumped and suppressed a loud cry, her good hand reflexively shooting to her mouth.

In the middle of her single-room apartment was a bright red balloon. It was identical to the very balloon she had seen in the alley. The same one that had seemed to announce the creature’s arrival.

Frantically Diana looked about her apartment. She expected to see the clown. She imagined his head would nearly touch the ceiling. His form would intrude upon the security she found within her little home. His presence would make the place seem alien and untrustworthy.

Well, maybe he didn’t need to take up residence in her home. The balloon already seemed to be doing the trick and sucked the assurance from her walls.

She glanced to her front door. The deadbolt still held its position, ever vigilant. Her eyes searched for the latch above her window. It too was secure. Realistically, she would have heard the window. The damn thing squeaked and jittered every time it was opened. No matter how often Diana used it, the vertical tracks around the window’s border always resisted her. The door was silent and cooperative though. She wouldn’t have heard him come through there. But. It had been locked. She was sure of it. And more importantly, there was not a soul present besides Diana. How could…?

She slowly approached the balloon while inspecting the place. Kitchen nook, bed, messy closet sans a door. There was no possible way someone could be hiding in her apartment. That was part of why she loved the place so much. She could see almost every part of the room at all times.

She investigated the shiny red globe. A string hung from the balloon’s base and tickled the floor. The party favor bobbed and twisted with miniscule measurements as if it were breathing. The thought of touching the latex intruder almost seemed to horrify Diana. This couldn’t be here. It shouldn’t be here.

As it stirred in the air, Diana noticed something along the curvature of the balloon. A smudge?

She didn’t touch the damn thing. Instead she walked around its position.

Stretching across the balloon, scribbled in glossy, black marker were two distinct words:

Y  OU  RE     WE  L C O ME

Diana lost control, blood running as cold as the Derry rain outside. She felt a fit hit her much like she’d imagine a Mack Truck would. She stopped holding her towel daintily, not caring if it fell, and stormed into her kitchen nook. The furious woman wrenched a knife from the dish rack with such force that the entire structure skittered and fell into the sink. Fuck it.

Diana stomped back to the balloon and slashed at the air. She wanted the tiny paring knife to meet flesh. Free blood. Knick bone. She wanted to sink the damn thing into that stupid clown’s stupid face. The balloon would have to do.

The latex obviously gave way instantly. The thing popped and fell to the ground, withered bits of rubber entwined with white string. Diana snatched up the balloon’s remains and stalked to her apartment window. Just as she knew it would, the window screeched as it was slammed open. The towel-clad woman flung the balloon remains out and over the fire escape with abandon. She wanted them nowhere near her or her home.

“Fuck off!” The words were uttered with force and enough volume that her neighbors could probably hear her. She didn’t care though. There was only one individual she really hoped could hear her and everyone else could eat shit.

Diana shut the window with a jittery slam, taking extra care to ensure it was locked. Her breath now came out in huffy, angry breaths. She gritted her teeth as she glanced around her apartment once more. This was her safe space. That she worked for. That she cared for. The only intruders allowed in here were her nightmares and the occasional roach. Fuck the fucking clown.

As her temper subsided, Diana began to feel the pain in her wrist anew. Her little episode had done her bruised joint no favors. It had done the pain and pressure in her chest a great deal of good though. She felt some relief from the night’s constant terror. However, as her rage dwindled, shame pushed its way into her mind.

She had fucking thanked the damn thing.

She had thanked him like a fucking moron right before he had-“Aggghhh! What the shit Di?! You should know better than this. Such an idiot...” She chided herself for a moment, sitting on her bed in defeat to do so.

 She felt a burn in her eyes and knew she wanted to cry again. Fear and rage and loss had all had their respective turns this evening. Now it was time for shame to have a go. But she couldn’t cry anymore. There was no way. She was exhausted. As a temporary compromise, she felt the shame agree to take up residence in her chest instead. She would have to tackle that one later. If she even could.

Diana slowly made herself a glass of cold water. Drinking it was both a pleasure and a chore.

As much as she knew it would be a struggle, Diana also knew she needed rest. She knew she needed sleep. For a moment panic struck her again. How could she possibly sleep with that thing out there? It clearly knew where she lived too!

Before those particular thoughts could destroy the little progress she had made emotionally, Diana shook her head. No. He let her go for a reason. This could be dealt with tomorrow. Not now. 

\-----------------------------------------------

_Hands. Giant greasy paws with dirty fingers. They grabbed at her. There were so many of them. They held her arms and legs. They grabbed at her hair and chest. Each one burned and smudged her skin with soot, or some kind of charcoal sludge._

_She attempted to grapple with the appendages. She couldn’t move though. Nothing she did would let her move. The hands felt like they had been glued to her skin._

_She pulled until her joints ached, until the pressure in her head throbbed and pounded behind her eyes. The pain stilled her movements, but every muscle in her body strained against the extremities._

_Trying to get a look at what had her, Diana threw her head in every direction._

_Bloody figures. She couldn’t count how many there were. She tried to trace the hands to their owners but got lost in the tangle, never making any progress._

_Looking at their faces she saw nothing but negative space. She knew she was looking at where a face should be, but instead all she saw was static and blood._

_Their torsos were soaked in the stuff as it dripped to the ground. How did they not slip? There was so much blood._

_But they maintained their footing. They crowded around her, the air growing hot and heavy. The atmosphere was just as thick as the blood that rose around them. Where was the blood coming from? She noticed slits in their necks and trickling streams of obsidian. But blood was red._

_The fluid around them shimmered and bubbled. The figures continued to weep from their wounds. She felt the heat of the rising, stifling liquid. It felt like she were drowning, but she could clearly see the pool was only to her waist. The figure’s kept leaking. They grasped her tight._

_She saw them begin to rise. No. She was sinking. Their arms did nothing to anchor her in place, but they didn’t push her down either. Clinging to anything she could, Diana tried to pull herself up by grabbing ahold of the figures. The effort made her sink further._

_She held her breath as the liquid overtook her. She didn’t feel like she was being submerged. Her body just felt heavy, not buoyant. And her lungs felt pressurized._

_As she tried to move, she noticed the hands were gone. But why couldn’t she move back up? Instead she noticed the figures looking down at her from the surface. Flailing she reached for them. They had so many hands. Why couldn’t they lend her one?_

_She felt something around her middle. She half expected an octopus to have her. Or a giant squid. Something with tentacles and hooks and a beak. But it was just a dark claw.  A giant hand covered in strings of flesh and bits of gore. It was large enough to hold her from thigh to torso. And it squeezed her tight. She noticed mangled scraps of rebar float past her. Grabbing for one, Diana knew she couldn’t reach it, but she tried all the same. She struggled and fought to hold onto something, anything, as the giant claw now dragged her further down._

_Her chest was alight with panic and the lack of air. It grew darker. She scratched and pulled at the talons around her middle. The claw bore thick tarantula hairs around its exterior. Each spine appeared to be a razor, and she feared they would tear into her flesh should she come into contact with one._

_She hit the bottom of the bloody sea with a jolt to her system. It was so dark now. Her whole body ached. She wanted to swim out of here but every movement and stroke pushed her deeper into the silty bottom of the pool._

_The giant claw was gone now. She felt terrified and alone without it, the only soul in the blackness. Suffocating. She looked around for the appendage, hoping it would appear again._

_As if her eyes simply needed to adjust to the shadows, she began to notice shapes in front of her. They were close. Too close. She wanted to reach out and touch them but she was afraid of what she would feel._

_Slowly, she began to decipher solid lines from the shapes, tracing an outline, a physical form. It wasn’t anything she recognized._

_And then the figure shifted. Whatever it was, it was expanding and drifting closer to her. Diana tried to swim backwards, flailing in the thick liquid. She was stuck in place, the soft bottom of the bloody sea held fast._

_The figure approached. She noticed bright, vertical, crimson lines. She saw the white that enveloped them. And then it unfurled. It was a cave of teeth, a giant lamprey shooting straight to her. Waves of orange fire drifted behind it._

_The giant claw from earlier returned with a friend, but she wasn’t as relieved to see it as she thought she would be. They both closed in, cupping together around her and making a small trap. Tarantula hairs managed to find her exposed skin and dug in at her shoulders and hips. It hurt and she watched blood form the wounds join the sea around her._

_When she looked back up, the teeth were inches from her face. She shut her eyes tightly but could still see them. Blankets of teeth covered flesh closed around her like the petals of a flower. She felt more blood leave her body. Somewhere in the distance she heard the bleating cries of an animal. They were distorted, as if heard from another room._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone that has read up to this point! This piece has become really important to me. I feel compelled to explore Diana's character and how her past has shaped the person she is now. I've manage to grow really fond of her and I hope everyone else will too. 
> 
> My goal is to upload once a week or as close to that benchmark as possible. Life is hard though, and I will do my best!


	3. Sweet Little Button

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ever catch the eye of a cosmic killer clown? Yeah me neither, but we can all dream, can't we? Somehow I don't think Diana is on board for this though.

Diana awoke with her blankets tangled around her ankles. The heat around her was sweltering. She scrambled to free herself from the stifling sheets expecting to feel cool wash over her once the bedding was gone, but she felt hotter.

The young woman flopped from her bed to lie on the floor. The aged wood was cool against her thighs. She even hiked up her night shirt and pressed her bare back against the floor’s surface.

The disorientation of her nightmare was slowly retreating like a fog. Reality was beginning to set in. Diana wasn’t sure if her reality was necessarily preferred to the nightmare she’d had. Honestly, both were pretty terrible.

She turned her head to rest her cheek against the slats of hardwood. Her forgotten, dirty clothes from last night were visible from this vantage point, crumpled up on the bathroom floor. She had left them where they had fallen.

Diana waited for her body to cool and her breathing to even out before she attempted to move. Standing in the bathroom doorway, she leaned against the doorframe and studied the pile of clothing. She needed to handle this mess.

Part of her had hoped that the clothes would be gone upon awakening. No such luck.

Her stomach grumbled as she pondered what to do with the clothes. Both her arms wrapped around her middle. She needed to eat something, but she also didn’t want to put off this chore any longer than she had.

Who was she kidding? Diana turned her back on the bathroom and the mound of bloody, wet clothes. They could wait.

She dropped a couple frozen waffles into her toaster. When they jumped from the appliance, Diana coated them with a light spread of honey butter. Slowly she ate. Standing with back against the kitchen counter, Diana crossed her legs slightly.

Last night had been wretched, but here in her small home, she felt some semblance of comfort and safety returning.

She surveyed the apartment and bit into a crisp buttery waffle. She needed to pick the place up. Her closet space, an alcove in the wall, was beginning to spill out of its designated area. All her clothes and shoes were visible anyhow, but this was a mess. She had considered putting up a partition of some kind or at least a curtain, but that had been when she moved in almost a year ago. Now, she didn’t care to cover up any of the apartments corners. The open lay out was a comfort to her.

Glancing about the room, Diana knew she was wasting time, putting off the inevitable. In the right corner of the room was her disheveled bed. It was always untidy. Stationed between the bed and the front door was her closet. Directly to Diana’s left was her two-burner stove with a tiny oven. The quaint little appliance met her needs perfectly. She only needed to cook for one, not a family of six.

Beyond the oven, the sink, and the fridge was a thin wall that separated the bathroom from the main room. She needed to go in there and get started, but beginning the task of cleaning her clothes meant she needed to fully acknowledge they were covered in blood.

Her weary body just wanted to collapse into her “comfy chair.” Really the chair was a corner portion of an old sectional that Diana had gotten a hold of. The damn thing was where she spent most of her off time. Her cousin in Bangor had afforded her a simple laptop as a house warming gift when she first moved in. On her days off, Diana would often occupy the sectional corner and watch online streaming services. While she was at work, the laptop held her place.

Speaking of work, Diana glanced at the fridge. Held in place with magnets was a simple calendar. The images displayed above the dates were of different breeds of flowers. At the time, her options had been this flower calendar or one with tractors on it.  

She double checked the date as she scrutinized the tiny boxes. Unfortunately, Diana was off from the diner today. Or maybe that was fortunate? She didn’t want to have to deal with people after last night, but she also didn’t want to be alone in her apartment. Neither possible outcome made her feel much better. At least being off today meant she could get some things done. Like wash those damn clothes.

With a loud sigh, Diana pushed off the kitchen counter and trudged to the bathroom. She began the task by inspecting her threadbare jacket. Thankfully it had been relatively spared the exposure to blood. It still didn’t smell great, but honestly, she needed a new coat anyhow. The cost would have to come out of her car savings. Not that she had much choice with winter approaching.

In the bathroom sink, Diana scrubbed a couple spots on her jacket clean before hanging it off the shower curtain. She had decided it was best to scrub the clothes as clean as possible before heading down to the laundry room on the first floor. Somehow she expected the blood on her clothes would raise questions with the neighbors.

Her undergarments went in the sink next. They had slight stains in select places with her bra bearing the brunt of the damage. She began by soaking her bra under cold water and scrubbing fistfuls of fabric together. The blood seemed to come out for the most part, but the garment would obviously need some kind of stain treatment. As Diana manipulated the fabric and continued to scrub she felt her fingers tingle with a slight numbness. The cold water from the pipes was intensified by the chilly weather outside. Nerves in her hands flared with pain, stunned and growing numb. She enjoyed the feeling somewhat. It was as if there were one less part of her to worry about for a moment.

Having made as much progress as possible with the bra, Diana threw it over the shower curtain rod to hang beside her dripping jacket. The real challenge was yet to come. Her dress.

She tried not to think about how the fabric had a stiff texture to it. Diana hadn’t fully processed how much blood there was to begin with. Examining her clothes left her with some idea.

Looking at the size of the bathroom sink, Diana decided her bathtub was better suited for the job. On her knees and hunched over the tub, she rinsed the fabric in cold water, scrubbing intermittently, Diana didn’t think the water would ever run clear. Maybe she wouldn’t be able to get all the blood out. She owned another uniform, but trashing this dress would put her down to a single work outfit, and she really didn’t want to do that. After a vigorous scrubbing Diana lifted the garment and straightened out the wet folds to get a good look at the progress she had made.  
  
A majority of the blood had been washed away. She would still need to treat the fabric and hope the stains came out in the wash. They probably wouldn’t though. And even if the stains did fade away, she would still need to repair the tear down the front and replace the missing buttons. The buttons.

Diana’s arms went numb to her shoulders. The fucking buttons. She could still hear them click lightly as they fell to the ground. Last night. In the alley. Where two dead bodies now lay. This meant there was forensic evidence linking her to that alley. Fuck. Double fuck.  
  
Diana dropped the dress and sat down on the tiled bathroom floor, remembering something else from last night. Just a tiny detail. No big deal. Her umbrella. It too was left behind in the alley. Distinctly, Diana remembered having stitched her initials into one of the panels on the umbrella. She was furious with past-her. Why had she even fucking done that? Who gave a shit if it was a cute idea at the time?

Know who wouldn’t find it cute? The fucking cops. Without a doubt, the authorities must have gathered up her personal effects. They could be on their way to her apartment right now. She felt an irrational panic rise in her throat.

The spooked girl half ran and half crawled to her laptop on the comfy chair. She immediately opened it and searched for the Derry Newspaper. The website was still underway, but they gave it a good effort to include content online. She hoped she could find something. Since people had begun to go missing in town, the newspaper had been pretty consistent with immediate story coverage. It was only just before 6am, but if she was lucky, there would be something about two mangled bodies discovered in an alley last night.

Sure enough. The headline read “Vicious Animal Attack on the Streets of Derry.” Animal?  
  
Diana quickly skimmed through the article. Surely she would see something about her buttons or her umbrella. No, wait. They wouldn’t reveal that kind of info in the paper. She instead inspected the article for phrases like “suspect” or “person of interest”.

There wasn’t a damn thing though. Not a single utterance of foul play. The article only mentioned how the bodies were mangled and were tentatively being labelled the result of a bear attack.

Continuing to freak out for a few more minutes, Diana reread the article. No information indicated she needed to worry. Really, the only thing fishy about the article was the fact that bears in the area didn’t go after people. The surrounding rural land was inhabited by black bears, sweet-tempered and relatively skittish creatures.

Diana sat back with a small rush of air. How did she still have the emotional capacity to feel scared or nervous anymore? Wasn’t there a finite amount that she could experience?

Even if the article was deceiving and the authorities were keeping a possible homicide investigation under wraps, there was nothing Diana could do about it. Sure, she could go to the police station and say, “Yeah Mr. Sherriff. Those really gruesome bear attacks. Were those guys murdered? I bet they were murdered. Who is on your suspect list? Hope it isn’t me.” That wouldn’t look suspicious in the least.

The young woman busied herself with laundry. She needed to take her mind off this, and washing her bloody clothes suddenly became very enticing. Remaining productive in general was appealing. So, as her clothes soaked in the tub with a spot treatment, Diana began picking up her apartment. All it took was two murders, attempted rape, and a monster clown to give her the cleaning bug.

\------------------------------------------------

After cleaning her whole apartment and returning from the laundering facilities, Diana now stood in front of her door. Dressed for chilly weather, she had a thick sweater layered beneath her freshly laundered coat and a scarf over that. She needed to grab a few groceries. She needed to buy a new coat. She needed to leave her apartment, the building, and its warm walls.

She knew what lay beyond her home though. IT. He was out there. Leaving this room meant leaving the building’s safety and opening herself up to encountering IT again.

Why was this a problem all of a sudden? She hadn’t felt this trepid when she had left her apartment for the laundry room. She supposed it was because she hadn’t planned to leave the building when she was washing clothes earlier.

Diana got angry for a moment. She had spent too much of her life holed up inside and fearing what lay in wait for her. She refused to regress and become a previous version of herself, the version that was meek and terrified of everything. She could do this for fuck’s sake.

After storming from her apartment but double checking it was locked, Diana crossed the building’s threshold. The main door rattled as she closed it behind her, the decorative metal lattice work jiggling in place. Diana bunched her sweater and her jacket around her nose and mouth. There was a nip in the air, and the fog did nothing to improve the climate. It was a classic Derry fog. Still early morning, the sun hadn’t yet had the chance to warm the town up. Eventually the fog would have a chance to dissipate once the star hung high in the sky, but that would be a few hours yet.

As Diana walked in the direction of the town square, she studied the mist of obscure clouds that clung to the buildings around her. While Diana loved the peaceful atmosphere, she also detested the lack of visibility. She could hear the Kenduskeag, the body of water that split the town, gurgle with a renewed vigor after last night’s rain, but she couldn’t see it. In fact, as she approached, she could only see so far down the man-made siding, the concrete hidden after about three feet.

For what it was worth, the air smelled wonderful. It gave the word “crisp” a whole new meaning and Diana didn’t hesitate to greedily inhale as much of it as she could. For a moment, it almost felt like the foggy air had a cleansing effect. She felt the tightness in her chest begin to unwind.

Today was a day off, something Diana hardly ever took full advantage of. The young woman decided to enjoy her leisure time and cut through the town’s park. She glanced about and spotted a bench positioned alongside the walking path. This path wound through the park but eventually split and lead into the heart of the town’s square. The fog prevented her from being able to see much further past the bench, but she knew a large field with other paths, quaint landscaping, and a stark white gazebo resided somewhere in the distance.

It was a public park, a gathering place. Diana hadn’t spent much time out here, but she was familiar with the area and the events the town held. There had been that one time during last year’s Christmas. A group of carolers had gathered at the white gazebo and sang into the night. It was a peaceful event. Diana hoped they did it again this year. Maybe she would ask her cousin to come visit. Maybe she would ask her aunt. They could all gather in front of the carolers, hot coffee or maybe hot chocolate in hand. They could pretend to be a normal family for a moment.

Diana stood in front of the park bench. She contemplated sitting down and enjoying the morning air. She wouldn’t have to worry about many people happening by. It was a Sunday morning. Everyone was asleep or in church right now. Diana had the park all to herself.

A few moments ago, Diana had been horrified of stepping outside. She was sure IT would have been waiting for her around every corner. But Diana was also indignant. She wouldn’t be intimidated into hiding away and letting life pass her by. She had done that crap for too long. IT left her alive for a reason, and she would enjoy her time how she pleased. Murderous clowns be damned.

With that thought, Diana sat on the park bench. It was damp but comfortable all the same. She closed her eyes and settled against the wood slats. She couldn’t hear cars or people. She barely heard any birds entertaining their morning social hour. The ones she heard were distant. The only noise she could really hear was her own breath, the creak of nearby trees, and the Kenduskeag. She didn’t think the rain they’d had was all that much, but even a light rain over several days could add up, overwhelming the natural bodies of water that surrounded the town of Derry.

Her ears honed in on the harsh trickle of water as it flew past her position on the park bench. It almost seemed to grow louder. The sound was both disconcerting and soothing. Part of her almost wanted to lie on the park bench and take a nap. Her tense, aching limbs relaxed into the wood and iron. She should take walks more often. This was wonderful.

That sensation shook loose and Diana’s shoulder blades knit together as a familiar stink found her. Dank dirt. And blood. The coppery musk surrounded Diana. Her first reaction was to jolt up and flee. However, even if it cost her dearly, the miffed woman refused. This was her morning on her bench in her happy little cloud of fog. She sat up straighter and inhaled deeper.

“What a lovely morning”, she proclaimed to herself in an exhale.

The aroma never subsided. With each tiny breeze and ruffle of the air, Diana thought the smell either dwindled or strengthened. It mimicked the ebb and flow of the water that occupied the town’s canal.

A pressure and tingle took up residence at the base of Diana’s skull. It was like a limb that fell asleep and resisted the call to rouse. She was being watched. The rest of Diana’s body didn’t resist the call though. She felt fear seize her limbs and knew she needed to move before they became frozen with the emotion. The smell intensified and Diana calmly stood and continued on her way, giving in to her earlier urge to depart. Besides the unusual smell, Diana had no reason to feel as afraid as she did. She almost felt silly.

Every inch of her body felt alight with a kind of jitter or hum. She felt it slowly dissipate as she walked away from the park, the Kenduskeag still rushing along to her left.

\-------------------------------------------------

The market took very little time. She only purchased a few items. She also stopped in at the pharmacy to grab some more conditioner and makeup. It wasn’t the kind she wore on her face. No, this particular brand and shade was the one she had found best covered up bruises. She wanted to take precaution and have a bottle just in case she needed it. As it was, the large scarf she wore was intended to help cover the lower portion of her face should her skin show any signs of abuse.

While among the aisles, Diana took extra care to avoid a particular part of the store. It was best that she didn’t see those flat rectangles of steel, the center cutout of teeth smiling at her. She always skirted around that aisle unless absolutely necessary, lest she be tempted to buy the damn things. She really didn’t want to open the door to temptation. She was better now. She knew she was, but part of her still feared falling into old habits. Never would she tell her therapist or her cousin and aunt how she missed the release those old habits granted her. It was like a drug. Diana wondered if this was how heroin addicts felt.

She also stopped by the town’s tiny thrift store before she headed out. The girl lucked out and found a lovely, intact, olive green, canvas coat. It had multiple layers within its construction. It was perfect for the approaching winter weather. Despite how worn her current coat was, it would still be quite the luxury to have an extra in her arsenal. Additionally, the new coat had an array of fun pockets to explore. She loved pockets.

The last item Diana purchased came from the bait and tackle store. They carried more than worms and hooks though. One of her new coat pockets now housed a small blue canister of pepper spray. It seemed an appropriate investment given the last 24 hours and she hoped the purchase would make her feel better. It almost did.

On her walk back, Diana’s sense of relief was shook loose. She had decided to pass through the park again. She’d be damned if she was going to be spooked by a rotten smell alone. About halfway home, her eyes watered with alarm as she passed where the park bench had been. Past tense. Had been.

Now, the wooden seat was opposite where it originally sat. It was overturned too. Resting against the safety rail that lined the expanse of the Kenduskeag’s canal. She knew exactly what it looked like had happened but she tried desperately not to entertain the thought.

It looked like the bench had been flipped, thrown even.

Diana stared at the strange arrangement for just a moment before advancing down the walking trail. She was immensely relieved to not pick up on the scent of decay like she had earlier.

By this point in the day, normally the sun would have chased off a good portion of the fog. That didn’t seem to be the case though. In fact, Diana watched the moisture swirl around her as she climbed the steps to her apartment building’s front door. The winding halls and stairs bore a resident chill. In reality, who would waste the money to heat the halls outside the rooms?

Diana secured the large, brown, paper bag of goods between the door and her right hip. She used her left hand, her good hand, to unlock the deadbolt. As soon as she crossed the threshold, Diana dropped her keys. Typical.

She set her groceries on the floor within her apartment and retrieved the keys on one knee. As she shifted her weight to stand, she smelled it again. A heavy and humid coppery decay. Please not here, not in her home.

Then she heard a wet sucking smack that turned her stomach. The vile sound came from her left, the kitchen nook.

She left the groceries where they had been set. Her hand drifted to the loaded coat pocket. She felt the outline of the pepper spray she had bought. Diana was more than ready to use it.

Slowly she turned to scan her apartment and face the kitchen. Exactly where she had stood earlier that morning now stood the clown. Mirroring her exact stance, his weight rested against the kitchen counter beside the sink. He even had his legs crossed like hers had been, right leg over the left and knees pressed together.

Except he wasn’t eating a waffle. Waffles didn’t bleed.

The creature’s mouth was covered in blood. She watched his teeth sink into something fleshy and pull away. Strings of sinewy muscle stretched from his lips, connecting to what appeared to be an arm. The limb ended at the elbow joint. Chunks of skin and muscle were missing from where a forearm had once been.

Diana resisted the urge to scream, but she couldn’t stop the gasp that left her mouth. The clown threw the arm down on her kitchen table. It was a tiny little thing with only one chair. Its main purpose was to house her keys and a small house plant, a baby of a fern. Now the table held a severed arm that seemed to ooze congealed blood.

The clown covered his mouth with a soiled glove and echoed her gasp, a mocking smirk upon his face. This was amusing to him. Of course it was.

Fluidly he stood up straight. His head was so close to the ceiling, just as she’d imagined it would have been. His hair adding to his already substantial height, he looked down at her. His expression and intent were unreadable. All Diana knew was that she was scared.

The front door slammed shut and she responded in the only way she knew how. Diana jumped and a choked cry hit her throat. IT was in her face before her heart could beat again.

As if on reflex, Diana pulled the pepper spray from her pocket and let a stream of liquid loose from the tiny blue canister. It seemed to burn in her hands with a kind of empowering warmth. The abrasive substance found the clown’s face with ease, and she saw it go straight into his sulfuric eyes.

The creature’s hands covered his face in an instant as he reeled away groaning and whining in pain. The sound of a wounded animal emanated from his writhing form. It almost made Diana feel bad. Almost.

She felt a surge of triumph. She had won in some tiny way. Fuck all if she had thought about the next step of her plan. All that mattered was that she had injured him. Fuck you clown! The next best step had to be running away.

Before Diana could get that far, the faint smile on her face died. As she watched the clown writhe about for a moment, she also watched him cease his anguished cries. Then his shoulders began to shake. He was laughing. The sound that eased from the creature was a chuckling that grew in volume. Something was wrong. What about her triumph, her victory? Dammit. She had unloaded an entire can of pepper spray into his face.

Clearly that meant shit. In fact, she knew it meant shit as she watched the creature’s hands lower. A moment ago, his fingers had been creepy, elongated digits, but now she noticed they had grown gaunt and sharper. They looked wrong.

The laughing cut off altogether. Somehow that was worse than when the mirthful sounds had begun.

“Oh Diiiiana. That wasn’t so nice, now was it?” The words were spoken with a sigh.

Everything in her body told her to run. Funny how IT seemed to have that effect on her. The creature twisted to face her. His eyes weren’t even red or watery or anything, but they were still the same intimidating and damnable yellow. The pepper spray hadn’t actually affected him, had it?

Maybe this wasn’t the best plan of action, but she’d had to try something. Diana couldn’t break her gaze even as her jaw ached with the memory of last night. She wished she could be permitted to move in some capacity, her whole body gone rigid.

Everything about him was so unsettling.

She watched as he stole a hand towel from the back of her only kitchen chair. As he dabbed at his face, she expected to see his makeup smear or come away, but it showed no signs of disturbance. The creature exaggeratedly sniffled in mock despair as he wiped his face clean of the pepper spray.

“To think! I brought you a present too!” With an exaggerated scowl, he shook his head in disappointment. Hearing the same light jingle from last night, she pictured tiny bells embedded somewhere in all the frills of his dirty suit. She hated to think of something so sweet and innocent being a part of this thing’s attire.

Diana stayed motionless. Her fingers gripped at her thighs, needing to hold onto something.  She wasn’t sure what to do or how to even react. When in doubt, silence was the best tool. It was a lesson she learned long ago.

“You’ll make it up to me, I’m sure!” And the clown nodded with a big dumb grin on his face. He shifted between terrifying and jovial all in one breath.

Her eyes drifted to his teeth. They weren’t the same as last night. In fact, they were almost normal minus the enlarged two front teeth. If it weren’t for the blood encircling the creature’s mouth, he would almost look endearing. She supposed this was all part of his crooked charm.

The creature reached out and beckoned her with two fingers. He almost appeared to be benign, but his shining eyes dulled the illusion.

Diana did a quick calculation. Running wasn’t an option. Fighting wasn’t an option. She was very much cornered.

So, she stepped forward. Just a couple steps, but she saw the creature’s face light up in elation. He gestured to her again, and she responded again with a couple more steps. She fucking hated this, bending to his whim. She felt like she were selling herself out even if that wasn’t necessarily the case. The familiar feeling of shame bubbled up. There wasn’t anything else she could do if she intended to survive.

Roughly four feet from the creature, she had to angle her head upward to look him in the face.

“Hold out your hand.” The creature spoke around a small giggle and waited for her to respond. She didn’t though. Her hands remained locked, fastened to her thighs.

IT didn’t bother repeating his request. He instead snatched up her hand, her bad hand. His grip was not as tight as it had been the previous evening, but it hurt just as much, pain striking her core.

“Ahh!” Looking back on the event, Diana was disappointed in herself for having vocalized her agony. She feared making any noise would encourage the creature’s cruel behavior.

IT wrenched her closer to him, wide dopey smile stretching across his face. Not that manipulating her should have taken much force. She was completely pliable under this level of pain.

“Pretty, pretty, noises.” He drew in a deep breath of air, inhaling close to Diana’s face. She watched drool fall from his lips and his chest hitch with excitement. A sickening anticipation took hold of Diana’s gut as she waited for the events of last night to repeat themselves.

Instead, the creature pressed something small and cold and hard into her hand. IT let go of her injured wrist and seemed to stand at attention in front of her, awaiting her reaction.

Inside her hand, speckled with blood and dirt, were four little blue buttons. The very same buttons that had been torn loose from her dress. She looked from her hand to the creature and saw him hold up a single finger, signifying for her to wait.

From somewhere behind his back, he pulled a long fabric covered rod. Her umbrella.

The creature had managed to procure both of her lost possessions and with it a small wave of relief. A very small one. At least she didn’t have to worry about the authorities now.

Her lips began trying to make words before her brain even knew what to funnel through them. The creature jingled again and cut her off. “You’re welcome!” There was no doubt he was mocking her on some level. The tone of his voice said it all. They were both thinking of the balloon, the sardonic latex messenger. He knew what shame she felt after his “display” the previous night. It was a corrosive sensation that currently ate a hole through her chest.

Diana blurted out the following, words that her brain just barely managed to process. “What do you want?”

Shadows spread over the creature’s expression. Diana wished she could take back what she said.

IT placed her umbrella on the kitchen table to wobble beside the mangled arm. The next place his hands found was on either side of Diana, gripping her shoulders firmly. If she hadn’t felt trapped before then she certainly did now. Her body coursed with anxiety and fright. Something sharp and unpleasant prickled her upper arms causing her to wince. IT’s haggard digits had now spurred talons, and they eased into her flesh like needles would have.  They may as well have been needles.

The creature beamed at her, his teeth having shifted into his piranha-like jaws. He spoke in a feral whisper. “To ruin you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I said I would try to update every week. And I tried. Very hard. I got close tho dammit!
> 
> I'm not giving up on this project. I love Diana too much. So, we will remain as close as possible to the weekly update goal!


	4. Pillow Talk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Penny and his shennanigans. Triflin' ass clown likes his games. And I mean. Playing along is probably always the best plan. Maybe.

Brilliant pools of sulfur drew Diana in. IT did seem to have a kind of repulsive magnetism. Repulsive being the key word.

She felt hypnotized but terrified by the creature’s speech. It was like the cadence of the words together elicited fear, but she wasn’t sure why. What did “ruin” mean? Was that even a word?

As if someone had whispered something in his ear, the creature nodded slowly. Clearly lost in thought, he began to speak to himself. “Yes, yes. Only fair…Be even.”

His claws withdrew from her arms. She couldn’t tell if he had pierced the sturdy cloth of her new coat or not. Diana certainly hoped not. Maybe next time she could kindly ask him to leave her clothes out of his shenanigans.

Next time? Would there be a next time? He hadn’t killed her yet, but they both knew he was more than capable.

She was not afforded the luxury to ponder on the chances of her survival. The creature reached back and gathered up the severed arm he had discarded earlier. A vile wet noise followed suit as IT squeezed the severed limb. As if he were simply juicing a lime, IT extracted a handful of goopy blood from the stump of the arm. He rolled the substance with the fingers of one hand, coating his gloved palm in the viscous merlot.

His gaze never left her face. He didn’t want to miss a second of this.

The mangled arm tossed and forgotten on the floor, the creature grabbed Diana by the back of her neck with his clean hand. Well, it was cleaner than his other hand at least. Coagulated blood dripped from his soiled palm in one fat drop. Diana gasped and he gripped tighter as she struggled against him. Somehow she knew exactly what he wanted to do.

Even outside of her hypnotic state, she couldn’t have stopped him. Cold slick found her face as he pet her cheek. Completely, he coated the left side of her face in old blood. It smelled old too. Diana hadn’t known that she could identify the smell of old blood until this very moment, but she wouldn’t soon forget. The damn stuff was practically up her nose, and she wanted to gag.

The creature’s ministrations were delicate though, and if she weren’t crazy, there was a fondness behind how his fingers softly spread the gore over her skin. She resisted the instinctual urge to wipe her face. Somehow she knew IT would not appreciate the gesture. Besides, this did technically make them “even” after her pepper spray efforts.

Currently the creature was giggling as he booped her nose, adding a final touch to his work. “Perfect! Pretty, pretty red!”

A soiled finger traced just below her jawline, pausing over her pulse. His giggling slowed and the upturned corners of his mouth eased downward. Diana watched drool pool against his bottom lip and flow over, dropping to the floor in thick strands.

Air passed through his throat, reminiscent of a death rattle. The sound made Diana hyperaware of the creature’s hand on the back of her neck, clasping rigidly with an authority she hadn’t the will to contest. Fuck she wish she had the resolve to fight back. It wasn’t her face covered in blood that provoked her fight or flight response. What set her off was the hungry look in the creature’s eyes. It was hunger, wasn’t it? No matter the nature of IT’s want, Diana was mortified to find out exactly what IT intended to do with her? He was capable of so much.

It leaned closer, their noses mere inches apart. He was tasting the air between them. He was savoring it.  Cringing was the most she could do.

“Nhh!” She let out a whine as the claret-shaded glove smoothed the hair back from her face, spreading gore among the strands. She had started out strong. She had fucking confronted him, and with pepper spray no less! She tried to hurt him, drive him back, but that hadn’t been the way to fight IT.

Diana knew what defeat felt like. She knew what it felt like to fail against a predator. It truly was a primal thing. Something from a baser level of being. It was like a nature show, really it was. The lion gets the gazelle. The gazelle accepts its fate. Sure it might kick or cry, but deep down the critter knew it was dinner. Diana was a critter.

IT pet her hair again. There it was. That kind of contorted fondness.

His face certainly didn’t match his actions. His jaw slack, profuse drool coating his chin, and flashing eyes that now bore flecks of red at the edges. They all read as dangerous even if Diana didn’t quite understand why.

Again IT exhaled a death rattle and growled out tiny words. He didn’t bother trying to form complete sentences, his fragments stringing together in hushed whispers. “Sweet lamb…sweet perfume.”

Diana shook her head, shutting her eyes and cringing again. The less time she spent looking IT in the face, the better. But she also couldn’t help but prompt him for information, an equal effort to distract him. “P-perfume?”

“Your fear.” His filthy right hand stayed against her hair while the other abandoned the base of her skull. She was thankful the pressure was gone from her neck but alarmed that the creature’s grip now found purchase in the dip of her waist. Too tight.

His next words came out rapidly, “The air reeks of it.” He placed an inflection on the last word like he was spitting it out.

Diana didn’t have the time to process any of this. His speech patterns were unnerving and his breath was disorienting. Overwhelming copper and dead leaves. The smell was so intense.

She averted her gaze, desperately trying to understand what IT meant. The gentle fingers stroked her head once more before tangling in the locks. He tugged at the hair, obviously intending to gain her full attention. She was just thankful that he had a hold of the hair on the back of her head and not the bruised crown.

Her nerves were frayed, her resilience unheard of. She immediately looked up. If she were lucky she could prevent him from doing too much damage to the back of her scalp as well.

Diana knew what was coming before it happened. The atmosphere shifted, and she could already feel exactly what he was going to do with their close proximity.

His tongue stretched from his lips, pointed teeth making their presence known. The slick muscle licked the side of her face from jaw to temple. IT groaned in contentment as Diana resisted the impulse to gasp or whine. Anything she could do to keep from encouraging the fucking monster was high on her priorities.

The creature’s tongue only played against her skin for but a moment.

She braced for the loathsome organ once more, but the creature only drew closer. Their faces so near. This time she couldn’t stop her body from reacting.

Their lips touched. A tingle spread through her jaw and chest to settle in her gut. Butterflies. She actually had fucking butterflies in her stomach. Diana would chide herself later for such a foolish reaction to something so wretched.

But the caress of his mouth was so delicate and tender. It wasn’t anything like what she had experienced thus far. A squeak escaped her chest. Just a tiny one, but it was a noise all the same. Diana felt shame for how she was reacting to the creature’s embrace. She should be biting and scratching and hitting, not swooning.

Honestly, Diana had never “swooned” before. She wasn’t quite sure what that would feel like. As he shifted and intensified the kiss, urging her lips to participate, Diana let out another squeak. Her body was a treacherous bastard. There was no fucking way she was enjoying this. It was just a visceral response. It was a foreign sensation and her body was processing it wrong. Yeah. That was it. Dumb fucking confused body.

IT pulled away, giving them a miniscule distance. He still had the same hungry look on his face, red-rimmed eyes and all, but now he was smirking.

Diana used the distance to catch her breath. If she were lucky, she could expel some of the shame that had welled up fresh in her chest, rising in her throat like bile.

He came back, moving forward for another embrace. And it was just as confusing and tender as the first. IT made to deepen the kiss again, and Diana felt the creature’s tongue against the crease of her mouth this time. Her body went rigid and all pleasantness was gone.

The hand in her hair shot to her jaw, his palm applying pressure to her neck. The creature’s fingers found their original position from the previous night, digging into the bruised bone. Again, Diana had no semblance of resilience. She cried out, mouth opening as far as he instructed with the pressure each digit applied. She might have been rigid, but she was pliable for him.

IT knew how to manipulate her, and did so with a growl. His tongue immediately passed her lips. The muscle coiled about in her mouth. She felt it tickle her hard palate and flick against her own tongue. So badly she had hoped to avoid repeating the events of last night.   

The creature’s motives had not become apparent until Diana realized she couldn’t breathe. He wasn’t choking her with his hand. That would have been a preferable method.

His tongue traveled to the back of her throat, completely occluding the orifice. She gagged as it moved further, deeper. It rolled as she heaved. Her eyes watered and promptly overflowed.

Without any thought Diana was pushing at his shoulders, hitting him as hard as she possibly could. She didn’t think of how to placate him. She didn’t think of how to survive past this. He could fucking kill her for looking at him wrong, right now. All she considered was her desperate need for air.

As she wrenched at the frills around his chest, he didn’t pay her struggles any mind. Her furious flailing was equivalent to a minor nuisance, a loose hair tickling the back of an arm.

She didn’t struggle for long. IT had stolen her breath in multiple ways already. Her capacity for breath was lost before this moment. Now her vision clouded at the edges, darkness creeping in. Part of her hoped this was the end. If it meant not having to feel the monster’s tongue against her any longer, she would take it. Diana gave one more pull at the lace beneath her fingers before letting the shadows take her.

\-----------------------------------------------------------

_Her mother. She was different than Diana remembered. Maybe it was the onyx of her eyes or the dried blood climbing nearly to her shoulders. They were only tiny details, but they made all the difference. This woman couldn’t possibly be her mother. But she was._

_Diana tried to touch her, but she was so far away. They were in a bathroom, weren’t they? The expanse of the room made Diana feel small and exposed. She wanted to hide. But she needed to reach her mother. Why couldn’t she just get close enough?_

_She slipped on the bathroom tile, something black pooled around her. It was like ink. She felt it seep into her clothes, weighing her down. The puddle brought her to her knees. Her mother drifted further away._

_Legs curled at impossible angles and shoulders twisted, her mother’s cheek rested against the tiles. The ink was coming from her black eyes. It trickled toward Diana as she became heavier with each second._

_Diana’s limbs were cumbersome, entirely unable to pull away from the sticky ink, the tar. She was sinking, drifting down. She couldn’t leave her mother. Not now. The ink pulled Diana in, sticking to her skin. It tickled her chin now. The puddle was so deep. It was swallowing her._

_Before the bathroom disappeared, Diana stole one last glimpse of her motionless mother. A jolt of fear tore through Diana’s spine as she saw her mother’s limp form smile. The black gone from her eyes, they shone gold. Her teeth were razors. Diana panicked as blood poured from her mother’s mouth. But then it was all gone._

_\---_

_She was in her room. Well, it was almost her room. She recognized the falsely comforting warmth of her mattress. She recognized the layout of her tiny apartment, but something was off. It was all off. How could it all be so familiar and foreign at once?_

_Diana wanted to be far from this bed. She wanted to leave. She had to get out. This wasn’t right. On a primal level Diana knew she couldn’t possibly be safe, but she also couldn’t move. Her limbs were still heavy from the ink that leaked from her mother._

_Her legs felt heavier than the rest of her for some reason. She felt a stirring between her thighs, heated and sweet. Her whole body was flush and aching. It was intoxicating._

_Diana looked down and wanted to scream but even her jaw was too tight to allow such a response.  The creature was in her bed, nestled between her thighs._

_The heat spread as IT moved over her. More precisely, his tongue moved. The muscle licked her open from bottom to top. It glided over her in all the right ways._

_No, no. All the wrong ways._

_Her body was at odds with her mind. She should be ashamed and terrified and disgusted. She should feel violated. It wasn’t that hard of a feeling to process dammit. She knew what violation felt like. Diana was all too familiar._

_But there was a disconnect. She shouted at her body to feel the ugly obscenity, but her efforts only whet her desire. She pleaded with her muscles to move, to escape. The only movement she could yield was her thighs sliding further apart to accommodate IT._

_IT groaned, pleased with the display, and her sex responded with a wave of flushed bliss. She had no control over herself and the warmth that rushed over her, humming in her head. She felt the heat envelop her mind and silence her pleas._

_Her lips released a small whine. Her body wanted to provoke him, beg him for more. IT needed no encouragement. She felt his breath against her wet skin as it dipped lower, tongue swirling against the folded flesh._

_Disgust and hate should have been at the forefront of her mind, but all Diana heard was the buzz of want, her want. Her body ignored her brain and convinced it that they needed this._

_She was sick to her stomach._

_Sexual desire was in charge now, and Diana was a bystander. She watched in horror as the creature nuzzled his face against her, taking in her scent. “Sweet, sweet lamb”._

_IT moved with a fervor that chilled her bones in a delightful way. It was a fever, and he had the medicine._

_Her body tilted toward him, pelvis moving against the creature’s tongue. She could feel how hungry he was, and her body intended to feed him._

_A loud noise rushed from her lips. IT laughed against her sex. He loved it, the control he had. Her body gladly granted it._

_She felt her hips rise form the bed and beg for more. His tongue swiped up and enveloped the pearl that made her knees lock. IT withdrew the muscle in its entirety until just the pointed tip remained, ghosting over the fleshy knot. She wanted to scream, in pleasure and horror._

_Saliva dripped from the monster’s mouth. She could feel it cool as it glided over her, sliding all down the length of her slit. The sensation made her hands twitch with the need to grab him, pull him close._

_Self-preservation was off the fucking table. All that mattered was release. He brought her so close, the tip of his tongue still tormenting the same spot. She wanted the whole thing against her. She wanted to puke._

_Diana’s limbs wouldn’t respond to her, but they responded to him and the appetite he fostered in her. She watched in bitter dread as her hands moved for him. They slid to the back of his head, clutching at his fiery locks.  IT laughed and huffed against her slit. While he resisted her efforts to draw his face further in, he didn’t remove the fingers from his hair._

_“Hungry Diana…” He whispered, taunting eyes flashing at her._

_“Hungry Pennywise…”He moved so fast after that. His tongue extended to a length that made her mouth water. Diana wanted to look away. Her treacherous body would not allow it._

_The monster moved as if he knew exactly what her body needed. The tongue curled into her, entering her. The damn thing writhed and pulsed with every noise that left Diana’s lips. Her best efforts yielded no results in holding back._

_She could feel his upper lip massage the not soon forgotten pearl of flesh as his tongue undulated in time. The pressure was exactly what she needed. Her thighs trembled and her joints locked in excitement. She was on the edge._

_But she never got to jump off. He held her fast and kept her there, planted right where he wanted her._

_Her neck craned down to watch him. He kept eye contact with her the entire time. As her body moaned, Diana screamed internally. She wanted this to sto--she wanted this to never stop._

_His hands held her hips, keeping her in place. As his head bobbed slightly, adding to the pressure of his ministrations, Diana could see his teeth. They were sharp and narrowly missed the delicate skin of her sex every time he moved._

_She bit her lip at the discovery. Her body loved it, delighted in it. Diana was terrified of what those teeth could do to her down there._

_IT wouldn’t let her finish. He wouldn’t allow her to feel release. She was pained by her need at this point._

_He withdrew completely, tongue having slithered back behind his rows of teeth. He growled at her, “Beg.”_

_She would have too, but as she took a breath, a slew of dirty, sweet things on the tip of her tongue, she screamed._

_IT sank his teeth into the soft, moist flesh of her thigh. She felt the puncture of each tooth. She felt her flesh give way. Each jagged wound burned as blood rushed forth._

_Diana’s rational brain finally took control. Panic took hold of her body. Fear emerged in full._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okies so we kept up with the schedule so far, and I really do want to continue the regular updates.
> 
> HOWEVER school is awful and may suck up a great portion of my time in the coming weeks. If there is a delay, please know that I will only be temporarily indisposed. I am invested. Like to an unhealthy level at this point. Send help. For me. Not Diana. 
> 
> And who knows! If there is a delay and things get a little too crazy with school. I will try and do a double upload. I feel like that is fair.
> 
> So yeah. Diana is my baby and imma do right by her and her story. But also I want my degree so. Gonna juggle ALL THE THINGS. Get it. Because clowns juggle? 
> 
> That's it. I'm putting myself to bed now because I need to stop. 
> 
> PS - Eat some candy and get spoopy!


	5. Sweet Dreams

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Don't let the title fool you - Diana's dreams aren't very sweet at all. And neither is Pennywise.

Jolting awake, Diana tore into the waking world, eager to be free of the clown. The scorching pain and spasm of desire followed her. Together the stimulation caused her muscles to tremble in the most unnerving way. She wanted to vomit. She wanted to shriek until her throat was in ribbons. Diana could feel the moisture between her thighs, evidence of her repulsive state.

Working to slow her breathing, slow her pulse, Diana did what she always did upon waking. She checked each corner of her apartment. Normally this was a comfort measure. Something to root her in reality. This time she scanned her apartment to ensure she was alone, to make sure IT wasn’t there.

He wasn’t waiting for her. The absence of that stark white face was all the comfort Diana needed at the moment. It was just her in the room. Her and the heat that enveloped her.

Untangling her legs from her sheets, Diana inspected the bed around her. She didn’t remember how she got there. She didn’t remember how she had fallen asleep. She especially didn’t remember undressing down to her underwear and a tank top. The gap in memory unsettling.

A hand wandered to her face, absent-mindedly wiping the sweat from her brow. It came away with more than she had anticipated, a red-brown residue. The sight of dried blood gave her a jolt at first. Then she remembered that it wasn’t her blood. Honestly, she had no idea whose blood it was, but she knew it belonged to the severed arm.

The whole encounter slowly came back to Diana. She remembered the clown, the severed arm, the kiss.

The lower half of her body responded with a small throb of warmth. It responded again as Diana tasted the lingering metallic flavor of blood on her teeth. Again as she recalled her nightmare. Again as she thought of those hungry eyes staring up at her. Again as she could still feel him move over her and insi-.

Diana shook her head and fought the simultaneous sensation of lust and nausea.

She quickly removed herself from her bed. The thought of his presence having been on her mattress caused her skin to crawl. Even if It was just a dream. Still.

Sitting on the floor, her eyes traveled to the dry spatters of blood where the solitary arm had lain. She was thankful the limb was not still there with its sickly pallor, jagged edges, and coagulated fluids.

Fuck. What the hell had happened?

Glancing at the clock, Diana found it to be early evening. The streetlights had come on outside, throwing a yellow glow into her apartment. She had only been asleep for a few hours. So, that **had** been a dream right?

But it had been so real.

She touched her face again, feeling the texture of the dried blood. That part had been real. But the other stuff. That had been a freaky, fucked up dream.

It had to be. She wanted it to be a dream. There was no way she would have gone along with something like that.

In her mind flashed snippets of IT’s ghastly face between her legs. Her own voice, her own moans faintly rang in her ears. She cringed at the thought. Why did she have to dream about that, of all things?

Never would she have done **that** with **IT**. Never.

Diana attempted to picture the first half of her dream. As awful as it was, she would rather think of her mangled, dead mother than think of… than think of him. Down there.

Shaking her head, Diana quickly moved to her bathroom. She wanted a shower. She wanted to wash away the blood, and sweat, and him. As she undressed, Diana ignored the state of her underwear. We just wouldn’t talk about that, let alone think about that. No. It was for the best.

Under the spray in record time, Diana quickly brushed her teeth while allowing the water to ease her tensed muscles. She brushed her teeth twice. Once to remove the taste of blood. Twice to remove the persistent presence of his lips.

His gentle, satin lips that gave her a thrill of excitem-. Stop Diana. Enough.

She didn’t want that.

After a few minutes, the haste in her bones seeped out. Diana gradually began to feel normal while scrubbing her skin. Soap suds slipped down the drain, jumping about in the shower’s spray. Diana absent-mindedly watched them slide away, vision blurring in and out of focus.

There was one part of her, however, that wouldn’t equalize. The pull of her core. She could feel it twinge, tiny strings tugging somewhere at her pelvis.

Diana was obviously familiar with the feeling. She might not pursue sexual activities, but once or twice a year she entertained the need. Masturbation wasn’t an exciting ordeal. It was maintenance. To her, it bore a similar relief to cracking her knuckles. Every time, Diana felt indifferent to the act. Sometimes she would feel nauseated afterwards. It eventually passed.

This time was different. This time, it wasn’t her body experiencing hormones or stress. This time was his fault.

She couldn’t possibly allow this. She couldn’t possibly chase this urge.

It was almost painful though. The itch needed to be scratched.

A trepid hand drifted down, testing the waters. Her body needed this, but Diana wanted to gag with the thought.

The conflicted young woman stood beneath the shower’s spray, weighing her options. It didn’t have to mean anything. Her mind had been through a lot in the past 48 hours. **She** had been through a lot. Maybe she just needed a little release. Just a little. If nothing more, the stimulation of her own fingers would drive away the residual sensation of him. Yeah.

At least, that’s what Diana thought would happen. She expected her touch to remove his. She expected the act to be bland and silent, a chore, but this was out of her control.

As she felt her fingers move over the sensitive flesh between her legs, she couldn’t help seeing his sunset colored eyes. Staring up at her. Burning her up.

The way his head tilted as his tongue moved deepe- She had to stop. This was too sick.

Diana took a deep breath and cleared her mind. With some focused effort, the frustrated young woman tried again.

After a moment, her dream returned. Flashes of his face buried in her moist flesh took up residence in the forefront of her mind. She swore she could still hear the obscene slick noise of his tongue twirling in circles. A stab of arousal caused scorching waves to creep over her shoulders like she were standing too close to a bonfire as a breeze swept by.

This had never happened before. In the past, this was always a simple activity. The complete opposite of exciting. Like washing the dishes. Like folding laundry. It disgusted Diana that her body was currently responding to the remnants of her nightmare with chills. The good kind of chills.

Stopping again, Diana bit her lip furiously. What the fuck was she doing?

Diana didn’t have an answer to that question. She couldn’t focus. All she could think about was how heated her body was, and it wasn’t the scalding shower’s fault.

As her hand moved down again, she was grateful to not hear the sopping wet noise she knew her sex was making. The shower drowned that out, but it didn’t subdue the moan that Diana let slip as she clung to the tiled wall.

“Fuck…” This time she didn’t stop when images of the clown burst into her mind, breaking through her pitiful barriers. If she hurried she could just be done with this and not think about it again. And she did. Vigorously Diana worked to finish.

She had masturbated before, but not like this. When this release finally came, it was different than any other. It was more intense. Her ringing ears, loud moans, and weak knees a testament to the strength of her orgasm.

Immediately, once the swell of relief faded, Diana felt green. The urge to lurch was overwhelming.

Limbs sluggish, she turned the shower off and ignored the toxic thoughts swimming about in her head. Ashamed, the young woman attempted to soothe her stirring mind: _I’m an adult. I can do as I please._

Diana desperately needed to not feel foul in this moment. Besides. It was just a dumb dream. Besides. The nausea would soon fade.

Another unusual thought occurred to Diana: Her therapist would be proud of her. Okay. So. He wouldn’t necessarily be proud of her for masturbating to a murder clown (probably definitely not), but he would be proud all the same. How would he put it? Taking control of her sexuality? That sounded about right.  

Could she really consider what she had done to be a breakthrough of sorts? Maybe?

No. No, that is exactly what she would do. After the shit Diana had dealt with over the past couple days, fuck it. Pissed and tired and positively done, Diana rinsed off once more, breathing the bathroom steam in deep.

If IT was going to invade her home and take advantage of her… Well, Diana wasn’t going to beat herself up about a perfectly normal body process. Yeah, even if it was a body process she hated to indulge.

Damn. Maybe this really was a breakthrough.

In the past Diana would have probably thrown up. She would have probably cried. Full on breakdown material.

It was just a dream though.

Wrapped in her favorite towel, Diana left the warm clouded bathroom and hurried to her closet. Eager to put on comfortable pants and socks, Diana dug through a basket of clean clothes in search of something warm and soothing.

Nothing, however, was comforting enough to chase away the sickening dread Diana felt in her gut. The stench of IT violently broke through the softness of her shampoo. That musty rot.

He spoke before she could turn around. “Pleasant dreams, Di?” When Tara called her that, it was sweet. When he did it, it was wrong. So wrong.

She turned on him, anger and fear equally manipulating her actions. Ready to shout and swear. Even if he attacked her again, she was going to give him a piece of her very tumultuous mind.

Coming about to face him, the breath caught in Diana’s throat. All she could do was cling to the towel wrapped around her body. It wasn’t much of an anchor, but it would do for now.

His face, it felt different. The normal cherub-like innocence of his features had always been quite off, but this was a different level of unsettling. In her dim apartment, room still swathed in yellow from the streetlights outside, his face was etched in shadow. His features ghastly in their salience.

He brought a hand up, the fingers split in the shape of a “V”.

Another wave of nausea tore through Diana as she watched his mouth open, tongue promptly finding his spread digits. The muscle ran up one finger, and down the other. She could see strands of saliva separate from the creature’s lips and drip out of sight. Despite the muted lighting, she could still make out how his white glove absorbed the moisture from his tongue, becoming a shade darker than the rest of the fabric.

Plenty of times in the past, Diana had treated several Derry Diner patrons to a lap full of coffee for similar behavior. Although she understood what she was looking at, Diana hadn’t the chance to fully calibrate her feelings of disgust before the whole display became much more heinous.

His tongue fell to the conjoined aspect of the “V”. The dripping muscle shuddered ever so slightly as it paused in the lower apex of his fingers. When the organ began to move again, swiping upwards, the appendage split. Straight down the middle.

Diana could hear the all too familiar and sickening sound of rending flesh.

The creature didn’t flinch. The ripping tissue didn’t faze him. Blood mixed with saliva and ran over the front of his glove. Mortified, Diana watched every drop. How could she not?

His serpentine tongue, ripped in half, now bore two tendrils. Each was busy twirling about a respective finger. The display was already lewd enough. Now it was positively revolting.

Diana connected the dots quite easily.

Oh god. He knew. He knew about her dream. The thought soured in her chest, throat constricting in shame. She suddenly felt very naked, towel or not. All strength and “empowerment” sapped from her. So much for progress.

Did that mean her dream had actually happened? Fuck. There was no way.

Reflexively, in thought, Diana reached down to brush over her thigh. The very same one he had torn into during her dream. She knew from her shower that there wasn’t a wound there, but she had to check again. She had to make sure. It was all very irrational, but given the circumstances, Diana figured she was permitted to be a little irrational - and scared. Of so many things.

Overcome, Diana just stood there. She dropped her gaze to the floor and absently rubbed at her thigh. She wouldn’t watch him anymore. If he was going to do something, then he would do it.

She didn’t see his crooked shoulders shake, but she could hear the whisper of air run through his teeth as he laughed. If he really wanted to drive her towards her own ruin, he was on the right path.

Diana felt so fragile. Despite everything in her life, fragile was a rare emotion for the young woman. Exhaustion, frustration, and pain were well known companions. But fragile? No. This was foreign territory.  

There was fight in her somewhere, but Diana couldn’t find it just yet. Not even as the creature approached her. Not even as he placed a clammy gloved hand on her bare shoulder.

His other hand enveloped hers - the hand that steadfastly clung to the top edges of her bath towel. The plush fabric was the only barrier, the only defense, she had to this monster. With the towel cradling her stricken figure she should feel warm, cushy and toasty. Instead Diana was shockingly cold like a window in winter with frost bordering each pane. If you inspected the ice crystals too closely, pressed your nose to its surface, the nerves under your skin would twinge in protest. The glass surface was always colder than you might think, no matter how warm the rest of the house was. The windows were always brutally honest. They never lied about the frigid conditions outside. Just like how Diana could never hide how cold her blood ran with each passing second.

She noted how large IT’s hand was. Easily the appendage could hold two more, maybe three, of her hands. His fingers wrapped over, intertwining, and attempted to loosen her grip. The pain of resisting made Diana’s eyes twitch and a shiver darted violently over her body. But she wouldn’t let go, and she wouldn’t look at him either.

The hand on her shoulder tightened, a silent threat, a warning.

Diana shook her head with minute movement. The slightest gesture, but Diana meant it – no.

“Get away from me…. Just go.”

He was so close. His presence suffocating. The monster’s daunting form wicking away the atmosphere. Diana just wanted to be able to breathe.

Chest burning, panic rising, Diana felt tears burn at the corners of her vision.

Expecting a claw around her throat, fangs in her face, Diana flinched when a hand found the side of her head, petting fondly. The grip on her shoulder eased as well, thumb rubbing small circles into her chilled flesh. Goosebumps rose under each of IT’s hands, sending chills spilling outwards.

He was pulling this shit again. Trying to confuse Diana. Trick her.

Diana shook her head again. Only the slightest little rattle.

“Go.”

The petting stopped. Bringing them eye to eye, the monster tangled his fingers in Diana’s hair and forced her to finally look at him. His face looked the same as it had before, his perverse smile and gaze tracing each of her features.

“What happened to manners?” The creature was close enough to nuzzle at her face and he did. Diana winced. If she didn’t stop him, there was no telling how far this encounter might go.

Through gritted teeth Diana hissed at the monster, “ ** _Please_** go”. This felt like begging. This felt dirty.

But it worked. He left. Gone like the steam still floating out of the bathroom, Diana was left standing alone in her apartment. Albeit, she felt morally, physically, and emotionally compromised, but she was alone.

\----------------------------------

The next couple days passed without incident. In a way, that was worse than encountering the monster clown. It was like waiting for a needlestick. Preparing for the pain, the intrusion. But it never came. Diana was constantly waiting for the needle to strike. Every walk home. Every night alone. Even when she took the trash out at work, Diana was sure she would see him waiting for her.

But she was still alone.

It was impossible to relax. There was no fucking way. Diana tried too. She went for walks, she started a new show, she even tried to read a book for a short while. Nothing eased her nerves.

And the nightmares never ceased. In fact, they got worse. Diana dreamt about her mother again. She dreamt about the clown. She dreamt about that damn thing in her bed again (that was a rough night). And she dreamt about her father, rotting in the hospital.

The nights following the clown’s last appearance were like a sick compilation of all her worst nightmares. A “greatest hits”. Each nightmare was incredibly real but also surreal, like she was watching a playback of all her most disturbing dreams. But she was still able to experience each one all the same. It fucking sucked.

The night the creature returned, Diana was almost relieved to see him. Finally, she could stop waiting for the needle to sink in.  

She had been at her father’s bedside, listening to him groan in pain. His health wasting away as the cancer in his pancreas made quick work of his organs. His skin oozed a rancid sludge. The substance leaked from his pores, hospital sheets soaked and glossy from the slime.

In a blink she was removed from that nightmare, that moment in time. Now she lay awake in her bedroom, checking each corner of her apartment. Standing several feet from her bed, his angular mass stood outlined in the dim light, silhouetted by the window.

IT didn’t say anything. He just stood there. Watching. Smiling. Eyes flashing. Glowing.

Diana could have said something. IT could have said something. But they just stared at each other. She could feel his excitement in the air like the electricity from a buzzing fuse box. She wondered if he could feel her relief.

She couldn’t go back to sleep, but she rolled to her side and pretended to not be comforted by his presence. Perhaps comfort was a strong word. To say she wanted him there, in her room, watching her sleep – that was a bit much.

Not looking for his golden eyes in every damn shadow – that was the real relief.

The next night he was there again. Closer, but still static. Arms at his side. Eyes alight in the dark. Again she rolled away from him and pretended not to be relieved.

The following night he moved closer still. Now he was at the foot of her bed, body seeming to arch in the night, bent over her. It was harder to roll away and ignore him. She could feel his eyes slide over her spine when she did.

IT appeared once more and Diana definitely couldn’t ignore him. IT sat at the foot of her bed, resting on her mattress. His legs long and obtrusive as they curled over the edge. His luminescent eyes were accompanied by a set of gnarled teeth, shaped to a wide crescent as he smiled at her. A hand rested on her knee. The tight grip almost held the facade of affection.

The creature’s entire existence seemed to be composed of moments of whimsy and horror, and IT didn’t fail to deliver.

Two fingers began walking up her leg, resting on her thigh for a moment. Her breathing shallow and quick, Diana tried dearly not to move. She felt like a child again, dreading the monsters that resided in a haze of sleep. Only, monsters were supposed to crawl from closets and under beds, and Diana had learned long ago that monsters didn’t need to hide in wait. They could be just down the hall. They could be in a bottle of whiskey. Or they could be here, now.

“This is miiiine. “

He whispered it. Or maybe he was hissing. When he spoke through his fangs, it seemed to sound all the same.

The hand traversed to the center of her waist, just over her pelvis. The sensation was vile. “This is miiiine.”

The fingers twirled and danced in place over her lower ribs. “This is mine.”

They daintily walked up and over one breast. “Thissss is mine.”

Running, his fingers pattered along her flesh and down the valley of her chest to perch on the other breast. “Thisss is mine.”

The finger-feet trudged slowly up to her neck, digging in with each step and resting in the hollow of her throat. “Thissss issss miiiine.”

Before another cold drop of blood could pass through the chambers of her quivering heart, his hand turned into a snare. He wasn’t sitting on the bed anymore either. He’d changed his position. Now he hung over her. A leg on each side.

The bells in his suit jingled as Diana struggled to breathe, flailing and scratching at the fabric that covered his long limbs. She barely registered the touch of his lips on her forehead before she lost consciousness.

\-----------------------------------------

The next morning, Diana did several things. She checked the calendar on her fridge. She coughed and rubbed at her neck. And she decided to leave Derry.   
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Firstly, I am sorry it took me so long to get a new chapter out. Life just went haywire. Like. VERY haywire.
> 
> Secondly, I am so fucking excited that I got to finally (with permission) utilize one of my favorite drawings by levanaart. I love everything about it so much and I've wanted to include it in this story since before I started writing: http://levanaart.tumblr.com/post/166520176265/c3-for-your-sin-bin-expression-meme-please-also
> 
> I don't know what kind of update schedule I can stick to just yet, but I am down to clown. So once I find my pace, we can get regular chapters out yeah?


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